


Trials of an Ambassador

by Flyby Stardancer (FlybyStardancer), gatekat



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Abortion, M/M, Mech Preg, Sibling Incest, Slavery, Spark Sexual Interfacing, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-25
Updated: 2011-10-26
Packaged: 2017-10-24 23:24:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 60,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlybyStardancer/pseuds/Flyby%20Stardancer, https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatekat/pseuds/gatekat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Continuity Mashup, Jazz/Prowl<br/>Prowl is assigned as an ambassador to a foreign territory. Unlike Praxus or Iacon, this territory still practices slavery. This practice disturbs Prowl even though the slaves seem very happy. Unfortunately for him, the Lord of Protihex gives him a slave for his own pleasure for the duration of his tenure as ambassador. Jazz, said slave, is beautiful and can’t seem to keep his hands off of Prowl.</p><p>Life becomes more complicated the more he learns about Jazz and the other slaves of Protihex. He must struggle with his own beliefs and the realities of the world he is in as he begins to care more and more for the slave at his side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arriving in Protihex

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Ball and Chain](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/5058) by Gimme-Chan. 



> Praxians look like   
> [](http://gatekat.deviantart.com/art/Tri-Wing-Prowl-by-Alteride-261651115)  
> Tri-Wing Prowl by Alteride by [Gatekat](http://gatekat.deviantart.com/) on [deviantART](http://www.deviantart.com)

Prowl vented air through his cooling systems as he checked his appearance. He had arrived in Protihex earlier in the orn with the rest of his political assistants. Now he was to go to dinner to be presented to Lord Blastoff as the newest Praxian Ambassador. This was his first assignment, and it wouldn't do to embarrass both Praxus and his family.

Satisfied that he was in immaculate condition, the young ambassador allowed himself to be led to the main dining room of the palace of the Praxian Ambassador to Protihex.

He had to admit that Protihex had done Praxus all due honors with the palace and its grounds. There were even several well-managed crystal gardens on the grounds, both wild and crafted, that spoke of the Praxians who lived here to maintain them. The buildings were in perfect repair and suited the Praxian preference for open and airy, a processor and spark trait inherited from their Seeker origins. There had even been an effort made to have wings, sensor wings or at least winglets on the majority of the servants he saw, just as it was at home. Even the number of panels on those with them was correct for his sensibilities. In all, it felt very much like home.

Prowl allowed the comforting familiarity of his new residence to calm his nerves as he reached the dining room. The servant leading him opened the door, then entered after him to announce Prowl to the Lord of Protihex.

He'd been ready, having seen life-sized holorenders of the Lord, but it was still a bit of a shock to take in the giant. The aerial convoy class mech was a *giant*, as large as the Prime himself, if not a bit larger.

"Welcome to Protihex, Ambassador Prowl," Lord Blastoff greeted him with the same even tone as his own Lord did, if a bit more distant. "I trust you have found all to your satisfaction?"

"Thank you, Lord Blastoff." Prowl gave a slight bow, as appropriate for his station. "Everything is beyond expectations."

"Excellent," Blastoff said, his tone implying that nothing else was acceptable. "I have selected a personal servant for you, to tend to all your needs while in Protihex."

At the words, a sleek, silver minibot polished to a mirror finished stepped forward, his metallic blue visor gleaming and a wide, honest looking smile on his face.

"This is Jazz. He is yours for your stay," Blastoff introduced the minibot.

The air in Prowl's vents nearly snagged at the sight of the gleaming silver finish and handsome, welcoming faceplate.

Externally, he maintained his composure and gave the Lord another bow and words of gratitude. Internally his processors raced as he took in the lovely sight. Even without the sensor wings Prowl was normally drawn to, he was one of the most attractive mechs Prowl had ever seen. Jazz was all supple grace as he moved, nearly ghosting over the floor to Prowl's side as smoothly as any Tower's noble.

"Sit and refuel with me," Blastoff motioned to the table, a small one with only a dozen seats.

Jazz immediately pulled out the chair at the near end while Blastoff moved to the larger chair, one suited to his frame, at the head of the table.

"Of course, my lord." Prowl moved over to the chair and sat in it, allowing for Jazz to push it back in at the same time.

On an unseen cue, more servants entered the room carrying trays with liquid energon of several varieties and many kinds of confections, gels and other solid forms. It was very much like the offerings Prowl had seen while he'd shared the Lord of Praxus' berth, though the company was not nearly so affectionate.

Well, _Jazz_ was, openly stroking the top of the first panels of Prowl's sensor wings. Prowl struggled to keep from twitching his panels under the attention.

"Were the laws regarding slaves given to you?" Blastoff asked as they were served.

"No, my lord. It was never mentioned." Prowl made his first selection after the lord did. The energon was smooth and slightly sweet as it slid down his throat.

Blastoff made a displeased sound, but his expression did not change. "Very well. For your gifted slaves," he motioned to Jazz, who purred and nuzzled Prowl's neck, "you may do anything to or with them that does not result in permanent damage or deactivation. You are responsible for all repairs and their care. Jazz was well liked by your predecessor. His best skills are detailing, entertainment and the berth."

"Jazz is very affectionate too," the minibot whispered next to Prowl's audio.

Prowl couldn't help the sudden invent. Slave. Lord Blastoff had given him a _slave_. Prowl could feel his inner self rebelling at the very idea. He had known that slavery was common in Protihex and he had been prepared to turn a blind optic to it despite his own moral codes, in the name of peace.

He had not expected be forced into participating in the barbaric practice.

"He will be well taken care of," Prowl assured with a steady voice, masking his unease. It would not do to make a scene. Jazz seemed determined to make a scene of a different kind, with the touches ... which the silver mech *must* have known were sensual and highly arousing if he had been in service to the previous ambassador.

Blastoff nodded and dipped his broad space transport wings in acceptance. "Tell me of the current going-ons of Praxus."

Prowl struggled to maintain his composure as he updated Blastoff on all the current events in Praxus. Jazz was making it increasingly difficult as the dinner went on, and no few times did Prowl's sensor panels twitch and move in response to the minibot's touches. By the time the meal was over and Prowl was released to his own devices for the remainder of the orn he was in desperate need for a little time to himself to dispel the charge.

It was a goal Jazz seemed determined to hinder as he trailed along after Prowl rather like a turbopuppy in love.

Prowl hurried to return to his private suite. The sooner he had Jazz settled and dealt with, the sooner he could deal with his little problem. The moment Jazz saw they were in Prowl's private suite his engine revved in excitement and the minibot hurried forward to reach the berth room before Prowl did.

Prowl halted in the doorway to the berthroom, a bit stunned by Jazz's enthusiasm. And the sight of the gleaming, openly wanton minibot on the luxurious berth was breathtaking.

Shaking his head to free his thoughts, the Praxian managed to find his vocalizer again. "Jazz. We must talk."

"Let me free your charge first, master," Jazz purred, everything in his frame submissive while his tone was hopeful, wanting, _eager_. "You'll think better then."

"No," Prowl replied. "What we must discuss is relevant to such... activities." Prowl vented air hard. As tempting as Jazz was, it was wrong to take advantage of and force himself on another mech. Even one who under any other circumstances had all but forced himself on Prowl.

"Lord Prowl prefers something else?" Jazz asked as he rolled to his side, his penetrative interface module fully open along with the panels covering his hardline ports.

Prowl shut off his optics, willing himself to keep control. "Do you know Praxus' stance on slavery?"

"No, Lord Prowl," Jazz said, his tone betraying his new uncertainty despite the display he was making of his frame.

"We do not have slaves," Prowl explained. "It is our belief that all deserve to have free choice, and slavery removes free choice by its very nature." He brought his optics back online to gauge Jazz's response. He saw a very intelligent, reasonably well educated mech with an expressive face and frame consider it, turn it over a few times before storing it away.

"I'm not offering because I have to, master," Jazz told him simply, motioning down his still-exposed frame. "It's your right to take me even if I didn't want you, but I _do_ want you."

Prowl recognized that his words were being given the gravity they were due, and he gave Jazz's words equal consideration. Slowly he moved into the room, sitting on the far side of the berth. Still, he did not reach for the minibot. "How could I be sure that any encounter is one you honestly desire, rather than one you agree to because you see it as your duty?" Prowl did not wish to remove the free will others, wittingly or not.

Jazz cocked his head and allowed his gaze to ravish the lovely mech as he thought about how to answer. "Do you believe I'll do what my master orders, whatever you order?"

"It is my understanding that slaves are required to do whatever their masters order," Prowl replied honestly, his optics asking Jazz to clarify, to reassure him that the belief was an exaggeration.

"You understand correct, master," Jazz nodded, relaxing back on his elbows in another display of his frame and offerings even as he kept optic contact with Prowl and a relatively serious expression. "So order me to tell the truth, ask if this is expected of me, if I honestly _want_ you beyond any duties or expectations I may have of a master."

"Tell me the truth." Prowl's intense gaze was focused on the silver mech's face, completely ignoring the enticing temptations of the rest of his frame. "What is expected of you? What do _you_ want, not tied to any duties or expectations?"

"My orders are to see to all your needs, from polishing your armor to tending your wings to fetching energon to ensuring to are fully booted, polished and prepared for your appointments to warming your berth to purchasing anything, including other slaves, you might desire," Jazz answered easily. "In short, I am expected to ensure you are happy and that poor word is not sent to Praxus of your treatment in Protihex."

Prowl nodded his understanding. It wasn't *that* different from any other personal servant a VIP might be assigned, except for the berth warmer and slave buying parts.

"Personally, I _enjoy_ interfacing, master," Jazz said seriously. "I enjoy my lovers, no matter how they come my way or why. You're a lovely mech, Lord Prowl. Exotic, soft spoken and entirely too tense. Even if I hadn't been given to you, I'd have done my best to arrange some time in your berth."

The thought that Jazz likely would have sought him out anyways eased some of his worries. Prowl's processors whirled into motion again, seeking out appropriate words that would allow Jazz as much choice as could be possible under the present circumstances.

"I would have you treat me as a lover you had chosen for yourself, up to and including the right for yourself to refuse anything for any reason without negative repercussions to your position."

Jazz nodded, processing the odd order. "If I do so when we are not in private it will lead to trouble, master."

Prowl sighed. "Then it will have to be hidden from those outside of here. I trust that you are able to judge when and how much is safe to show." Prowl's hand unconsciously slid to a spot halfway between the two mechs. "Also, I would prefer it if you didn't use my titles while in private. I do not need the reminders."

"Sure thing, Prowl," Jazz gave him a dazzling smile. "Any other ground rules?"

Prowl's resistance finally cracked. "None that I can think of at the moment, though I do have to note... I am not so easily caught." Prowl moved in close and caught the lovely silver mech in a slow, smoldering kiss that Jazz absolutely melted into as he returned it with all the passion in his frame. After a long moment Prowl pulled back, amusement lighting his optics and lips quirked in a small, teasing smirk. "Good night, Jazz."

"You've still got quite a charge," the silver mech objected, stunned by the kiss and the statement.

"I have handled worse," Prowled replied, his smirk widening a fraction.

Jazz's expression remained confused. "I'm sure ... but why when you don't need to?"

"The eventual interfacing will be much sweeter if you have to work for it," was the answer.

Jazz cocked his head, seeming to think over the statement while Prowl watched.

"All right," Jazz said, though he didn't look at all convinced. "May I recharge with you, or do I have to earn that too?"

"Yes, you may." Prowl laid back on the berth, carefully arranging his wings. Amusement at Jazz's confusion radiated gently from his frame as he prepared himself for recharge. He allowed a small trickle of the pleasant sensation of having a warm, willing chassis curl and snuggle against his own for the night reach his field, making Jazz's engine purr happily.


	2. Waking with a Slave

Prowl was warm and comfortable when he started to boot up, with a light haze of pleasure coming from his wing panels. Humming contently, he stretched, only to halt when he became cognizant of the weight on his frame. Quickly powering up his optics, he saw that sometime during the night Jazz had moved to drape himself over Prowl's frame. Now the minibot was still in recharge and completely strutless, and Prowl could feel one of his hands idly stroking a wing panel.

It was a very pleasant sensation and confirmed what the silver mech had told him; Jazz was very affectionate. Apparently even in recharge.

On a normal morning back home, Prowl would have risen immediately from the berth to begin his day. However, at the look on Jazz's recharging faceplates, he found himself pausing, reluctant to disturb him from his recharge.

A breem or two on one morning surely wouldn't hurt.

The mech's field when in deep recharge was pleasant. It meant that whatever Jazz's life had contained, he was _happy_ overall, more than just content. Happy enough that when all his conscious guards were down, he was still pleasant to be with. His spark was content.

Captivated, Prowl continued his silent study. A small processing thread came up, wondering if Jazz had moved to his current position while he was awake or not. Prowl could not say either way at the moment, though it was obvious that the silver mech was quite comfortable laying on the Praxian.

It was only when Jazz shifted slightly in his recharge that Prowl realized that his interface panels -- both hardline and penetrative -- were still wide open, and the mech's spike was fully pressurized.

For a brief moment, Prowl's traitorous processors supplied him with the idea of wakening Jazz by touching and teasing the offered interface equipment. The black and white mech curbed that impulse, however. As lovely and tempting as the smaller mech was, Prowl wanted to get to know him and start developing a friendship before moving into a physical relationship. It was what he had done with the few lovers he'd had amongst his peers, and he saw no reason not to follow the same pattern with Jazz regardless of the differences in their social station.

With a small squirming movement, Jazz's systems began to power up towards consciousness. Well before the mech could be classified as booted up, the hand on Prowl's sensor wing became more purposeful, as was the recharge-lazy nuzzling of Jazz's helm against the seam of Prowl's chestplates. Prowl couldn't help a shudder at the flood of stimulation and finally reached up to carefully adjust the too-friendly hand to someplace a bit less sensitive. Part of his processor was quite relieved to meet no resistance, and that the stroking continued as Jazz finished booting.

"Morning, handsome," Jazz purred as he squirmed upwards to snatch a quick kiss.

"Good morning," Prowl replied, returning the kiss. "I take it you recharged well?" There was a tiny, amused twist to his lips.

"Mmm, yes," Jazz decided with a second kiss, this one a bit longer. "You?"

Prowl let him draw it out, one hand lightly touching the minibot's side. "Quite well. Though it is time to get up."

Jazz chuckled. "We've got a couple breems, but okay," he said amicably and shifted to get up. He finally closed all his interface ports, though his spike housing took a bit longer as he had to force it to depressurize and retract. "Shower and detailing?"

"Yes, please." Prowl stretched a bit as he got up, wings flaring out to their full extent before settling back into their normal position. He then turned and headed towards the private wash racks, with Jazz following.

The silver mech hummed happily as he overtook Prowl to set the luxurious room-shower to the correct temperature. "Lord Brightwing would like to meet you for breakfast at his palace," Jazz chatted easily, his role as an aid coming to the fore. "After that your orn is open to explore the city."

Prowl hummed as he stepped in. "Is there anything important I should keep in mind about Lord Brightwing? And I assume you will be my guide for the city."

"Arrogant, self-important, small processor," Jazz shrugged and picked up a washcloth to tend to the still-perfect finish of Prowl's back and sensor wings. "Standard noble. Just smile, nod and pretend to be interested in his prater and he'll like you. Yes, I'll be your guide ... and everything else you let me."

Prowl made a noise of acknowledgement to the information about Brightwing, fanning his wings so Jazz could reach every panel. "That will be nice." Once Jazz was done soaping up his back, he turned to allow the solvent to rinse it off. "If you want to take a bit of time for yourself at any point, just let me know. Do you have any family here?"

"None that'll admit to me," Jazz shrugged and went to work on Prowl's broad chest. "I was orphaned as a second stage sparkling. Only reason I survived was cause my carrier was one of Lord Blastoff's slaves, so he was already expecting to cover my upgrades and care until I could earn my keep."

"And no knowledge of who your sire could be?" Prowl made a sympathetic noise. While not acknowledging kin sometimes happened in Praxus, it was generally frowned upon and the standing of any family found to be doing so would take a hit. It was better to recognize ties to even an illegitimate creation and provide for it, for the creation's sake. "Do you have interests outside of your duties?"

Jazz shrugged. "Some guesses, sure, but no real idea, much less proof. She wasn't much on discussing it that I can remember, and no one would talk about it afterwards. Which all amounts to it probably not being another slave. There's no reason for a slave not to admit to being my sire. It's the carrier that determines the creation's status here unless the sire makes a legal point of claiming it.

"I have plenty of hobbies," Jazz shifted topics with a grin. "I love music, listening, performing, even writing it. I love to dance too, all kinds, but mostly sensual and club. But my favorite hobbies are socializing and dating. I don't like recharging alone."

"I would enjoy listening to you at some point," he replied as Jazz worked over the rest of his plating. "Is there anyone you are particularly close to at the moment?"

"Sure," Jazz's smile was brilliant and honest. "What kinds of music do you like best? I can do just about anything. I have a couple regular berthmates that could qualify as dating, but none I'm that serious about. They're good mechs, fun to be with and good 'faces, but not what I'm looking for in a permanent thing."

"Classical, modern interpretations of traditional Praxian songs, and..." Prowl looked a little embarrassed to be admitting the last type, "...love ballads."

Jazz brushed his field against Prowl, expressing his pleasure more effectively than words.

Giving himself a bit of a shake, he turned to Jazz. "Are you looking for a permanent partner?"

"Sort of," Jazz hedged. "I want that eventually, maybe even bond, but it's not easy to find someone who's interested and isn't out to just improve their status."

Prowl hummed his approval. "You deserve someone who wants you, rather than what you can provide."

"What about you?" Jazz shifted the focus. "What are you hoping for in a mate ... or were you promised to someone?"

"My creators have not arranged anything for me as of yet," Prowl replied as he gave thought to the first part of the question. "Someone who is intelligent, affectionate and interested in family."

Jazz nodded and smiled warmly, his field a bit wistful. "A carrier, sire or both?"

"I would be content with either." Prowl stepped over to the dryer as Jazz turned off the solvent shower.

"Maybe you'll find someone here," Jazz suggested, his field telling that he had no expectations of it being him. "There are plenty of unattached nobles of your status in the city."

"Perhaps," Prowl held no expectations either way when it came to finding a bondmate. "Like yourself, I have not had any relationships that were so serious."

"Do you want me to present a few options while you are here?" Jazz offered, taking a polishing cloth to work on Prowl's finish while they were dried.

"I would not object, though I'm not actively looking at this point." Prowl held his limbs out, relaxing as Jazz worked his magic. He had to admit that the mech was skilled; he could form no complaints about his care so far.

"I'll see if anyone strikes me as a good match then, but not look," Jazz said easily. "I have to admit, you're very different from the previous ambassadors."

"In a good way?" Prowl did not particularly want to dig in the closets of his predecessors, but he was curious to how Jazz had been treated.

"Depends on your take," Jazz chuckled as he worked on Prowl's finish. "They were more than happy to take advantage of my welcome."

"Which do you prefer?" Prowl was a bit disturbed that his fellow Praxians would take such advantage of a mech without regret.

"Mmm, I enjoyed their first night more, but I think I like you better," Jazz decided after a moment. "I do enjoy interfacing more than the average mech around here."

Prowl smiled at the compliment, and chuckled softly at Jazz's last comment. "Feel free to try to convince me to interface sooner, if you so wish."

"Trust me," he leaned up to steal a kiss with a cheeky grin. "I intend to. I won't be getting much until then, after all."

Prowl returned the kiss. "I promise to make the wait worth it." He kissed Jazz again, his lips lingering as the small mech slid his arms around Prowl's neck and kissed back with full fervor and a heady moan. Jazz's field flared hot and ready, eager and aroused and oh so very ready.

"Mmm, you do run hot..." Prowl observed, his lips not leaving Jazz's, hands at the minibot's waist.

Jazz could only moan and press into the contact, his chassis trembling faintly in desire.

Prowl finally pulled his helm back, panting heavily. "I need to finish getting ready for breakfast."

"Sure you don't want to get off first?" Jazz shuddered, forcefully suppressing a whine of need and the bolder moves he wanted to commit. No matter what this mech said, Jazz couldn't allow himself to forget their real status. He could push, but if he ever upset this mech, it could be more than just his spark on the line.

"I'm sure, though you can deal with your own if you need to." Prowl loosened his hold on the silver mech. He winced internally at the surprise, then gratitude that flowed through Jazz's field as it separated and Jazz backed off a bit.

"You don't mind?" Jazz just had to be sure. Prowl wouldn't be the first mech he'd been given to who enjoyed the power games of arousal and denial.

"Not at all," Prowl confirmed, watching as Jazz stepped back to rest against the wall of the washrack and snapped his spike cover open.

With just a touch of show involved, Jazz's fingers closed around the pressurizing spike and began to stroke himself. A low, grateful moan of pleasure rumbled from Jazz's chassis as he tipped his helm back and allowed his mouth to fall slightly open.

Prowl watched appreciatively even as he put the finishing touches on his appearance. The silver mech certainly had no shame, and very much enjoyed showing his pleasure. Moans and gasps came quickly as fingers that clearly had plenty of experience worked Jazz to a quick, hard and very vocal overload.

One that had Jazz calling Prowl's designation out as his silvery purple transfluid spurted from his spike to splatter on the floor.

Prowl's optics flickered in brief surprise that Jazz had called his designation in overload, still cycling air hard at the eroticism of the sight. If this was what Jazz did after less than a full orn, Prowl had doubts his will would last long if he was the primary focus of the deliciously exotic mech's attentions.

He did manage to find the focus to finish trying and polishing himself until Jazz recovered sufficiently to be coherent again. "You do not need to spend your nights with me," Prowl commented quietly when he was sure Jazz would understand him. "If there is someone else you would prefer to be with, I would not object."

"I might," the lithe mech mumbled as he gathered himself and tucked his spike away. "I'll miss you though."

"It would be impossible not to miss you," Prowl replied, surprising himself with how true it was despite the short time he had known Jazz. "My family's philosophy is that servants who are happy, who feel secure and appreciated, perform better. I do not wish for you to be unhappy, or feel deprived."

Jazz gave him a shaky smile as he stood more steadily. "I'm kinda used to being deprived on this count," he said with a rueful smile. "Systems run too hot for anybody to keep up with me."

Prowl slowly approached, tenderly cupping Jazz's cheek in one hand. "That does not make it right for me to exacerbate it."

"Thank you," Jazz leaned into the touch, his field showing as clearly as his frame that he'd calmed down for now.

It was enough for Prowl to be curious though. "Just now hot do you run?"

A rueful smile crossed Jazz's features. "Morning and evening at least, usually a couple times during the orn too. Most commissioned pleasure slaves aren't that high maintenance."

Prowl chuckled softly at that smile, just barely restraining himself from leaning in to kiss it off. "Impressive." The traitorous part of his processors, the part that was continually urging to indulge in what Jazz offered, was quietly pointing out that he had the stamina to match such desires even if he didn't run so hot himself.

"Are all expected to be with their masters while their masters are having social visits? Like you were last night at dinner?"

"It depends on the master," Jazz answered smoothly, still very willing to have his cheek cupped in Prowl's hand. "I should be with you for the first few decaorns though, or Lord Blastoff might think that you aren't happy with me, or I'm not doing my duties showing you around and introducing you to the other Lords."

Prowl hummed an acknowledging note and leaned in to whisper softly in Jazz's audio, "I would not object to being thought of as a voyeur here if the charge becomes too much and you need to relieve yourself."

A small whimper and shiver of desire escaped Jazz as his field reached out to Prowl. "I will enjoy indulging that permission," he purred, leaning into the touch.

Prowl chuckled again and placed a kiss on the front of Jazz's helm. "I expect you will." He checked his chronometer and straightened. "We should leave if we're to meet Lord Brightwing on time."

"Yes, of course," Jazz nodded, pulling himself together and shifting his manner slightly to match what the outside world expected of him. "If you'll follow me, master."


	3. Passion and Hesitation

Jazz moaned, nibbling on Nightingale's neck as the sky blue minibot thrust into him deep and hard, just the way Jazz liked it most. Despite their similar size, Nightingale was good at reading a mech's desires and just as good at fulfilling them. Right now that was to make Jazz scream in ecstasy time and again for the viewing pleasure of Jazz's current master ... not that Lord Prowl knew what he was going to walk in on.

"So good," Nightingale growled in his audio just as said master walked it. He altered the angle of Jazz's hips enough that each sharp movement hit the most sensitive spots in his valve dead on, causing the silver mech to quiver and mewl.

Prowl's fans abruptly whirled to life, cycling up to their highest setting almost immediately even as his engine rumbled with desire.

Jazz moaned again before turning his helm to face the Praxian. "Join us?" He untangled one hand from Nightingale's armor to extend it to Prowl in entry.

Prowl visibly struggled with himself, shuddering with desire. "Not at this moment, thank you," he finally replied despite the hunger and arousal inflaming his gaze. "Do you mind if I stayed to watch, though?"

Jazz's blue lover leaned in, matching a nip to Jazz's sensory horn to a particularly hard thrust. It got a sharp cry and buck of Jazz's hips before he managed to answer.

"Please do, pleasure yourself if you won't allow us to," Jazz cried out as the charge built inside him. "Know you're turned on. I want to enjoy seeing you."

Prowl groaned, unable to deny Jazz's request. One hand went down and wrapped around the spike that practically exploded from its housing. His other hand stroked his own chest plates, wringing whimpers from his vocalizer.

"Want to shift to better watch and be watched?" Nightingale asked in Jazz's audio.

"Oh yeah," Jazz shuddered at the lust in his lover's voice.

Giving Jazz's sensory horn another nip, the blue minibot pulled out of his partner and shifted so that he was sitting propped up against a wall. He then pulled Jazz onto his lap, facing Prowl, and guided the silver mech's hips down. With a groan, Nightingale thrust his hips up, fully seating himself once more.

"You look so good," Prowl moaned, sensory panels twitching in time with the hand on his spike. Now he had a full view of Jazz as he was claimed, imagining that it was his own spike buried in him. The scene and mental imagery was intensely erotic and sent another wave of arousal through him.

"So do you," Jazz moaned as electricity zapped between his frame and his lover. "Exotic, nicely sized," he shuddered as his overload built. "So looking forward to feeling you, touching you, _tasting_ you."

"Want to touch and taste in return, all over your body," Prowl replied, voice staticky from arousal. He worked himself over furiously, attempting to catch up to the mechs he was watching.

At Prowl's words, Nightingale ran his hands up Jazz's sides to grope at his chest, hips thrusting up as hard as his position allowed. Electricity danced over their frames as Jazz cried out, a wordless keen of overloading ecstasy. His valve tightened around Nightingale's spike. Calipers spiraled closed, the valve liner constricted and heavy charges jolted between the two sets of sensor nodes.

Nightingale grunted, transfluid spilling from between their joined bodies as he overloaded after several more thrusts in that tight valve.

Hands frantically increased their tempo as Prowl watched the incredible spectacle before him. Electricity began to flash over his armor and his optics shut off once Jazz was spent. His one hand moved down to sink a pair of fingers in his valve, and that was all it took before Prowl was overloading with a cry of his own.

He was gasping for cooling air when he powered his optics to the sounds of movement and mech being pounded into. This time he saw Nightingale on his back with his helm hanging over the edge of the berth, bright, eager optics locked on Prowl while Jazz pounded into the sky blue mech's valve.

Prowl's engine gave another rev at the sight, and the fingers in his valve instinctively began to pump in time with Jazz's movements. He shuddered as Nightingale's needy cries and hungry gaze washed over him, spiking his arousal higher.

"Told you," Jazz groaned at the sight of his master's pleasure and being the cause of it, even indirectly. "Told you he had stamina."

"Didn't think it was possible," the other minibot groaned in reply. His hips surged to meet his lover's even as he couldn't tear his optics away from the sight of the noble whimpering as he added a third finger to those pumping in his valve.

"Prowl," Jazz shuddered, his thrusts becoming firmer. "Do you want a toy? I've got some nice ones with me."

"Yes, please," Prowl managed to get out. "Where are they?"

Jazz reached into his subspace and pulled out a false spike a bit larger than Prowl's spike, ridged and with nubs. "Catch," he said, giving Prowl enough time to be ready before tossing it to him.

Prowl pulled his hands away, catching the false spike with a minimum of fumbling. Once he got a good hold of the end of it and dragged it over the entrance of his valve, then he sank it in with a needy groan.

Nightingale whined, wriggling under his lover when he paused to produce the toy for Prowl. Jazz leaned forward and silenced him with a demanding kiss, his glossa dominating his lover's as he picked up his thrusts once more. When they broke the kiss they both focused on Prowl, watching the noble pleasure himself with Jazz's toy while the noble watched them.

"He's beautiful, isn't he?" Jazz moaned, speaking to Nightingale even as he never took his optics off Prowl.

"Very handsome, very striking," Nightingale panted, legs wrapping around Jazz's waist for more leverage. His optics focused in on where the false spike slid in and out of the ambassador's valve, coated in lubricants. It was a delicious mirror of what he was feeling as Jazz thrust deep and hard in and out of his valve, electricity sparking between sensor nodes as the charge built to critical levels.

It wasn't long before Jazz began to grunt with each thrust, his frame trembling in pleasure until he stiffened and roared his overload, transfluid erupting into Nightingale's valve in thick, hot bursts. The other minibot began to cry out with each of the last thrusts before he overloaded at the end of Jazz's, throwing his head back and arching up.

Prowl whimpered as he watched the two lovers in ecstasy, moving the false spike frantically in his valve. It wasn't quite enough, and his optics widened when Jazz recovered and began to thrust again with a growl of lust. Nightingale was still slumped, strutless and crackling from his overload, but there was no doubt that Jazz was chasing another overload with his optics locked on Prowl and the false spike.

Prowl's gaze then met the silver mech's and he once more matched his own movements to the other's. "Jaaazz," he moaned.

Nightingale panted beneath his lover, still spent, optics dimmed as he willingly allowed his body to be used for the other's pleasure. He was used to being used, though it had taken a bit to get used to how worn out Jazz made him before the silver mech was on his own. It was a very different experience. Jazz was a considerate lover, but he was aggressive about sating his needs too. Nightingale didn't know what had gone wrong with the mech's coding that made him run hotter than any pleasurebot, but he couldn't find it in himself to mind given how Jazz treated him when he was up for doing more than lie there with his legs spread.

Jazz's full attention was locked on Prowl, the motions and sounds the noble made. It was delicious. He decided that it wasn't a bad option to have a lover here while he and Prowl got off on watching each other.

Prowl gasped as he altered the angle of the false spike, electricity beginning to arc over his plating. "Please, Jazz..." he begged, wanting to see the other taken up in ecstasy again.

With a small nod Jazz shifted his angle, lifting his hips and thrusting down to rub the sensor nodes most rarely stimulated. With a low, shuddering moan he parted his chest plates a crack and snuck a finger between them to stroke his internals and the very edge of his spark chamber. It was pushing it, pushing himself, but it was so very worth it to see the expression, the open, needful lust on Prowl's face.

Just a few more strokes and Jazz arched, making an effort to display himself, display his pleasure, for his audience as he overloaded a third time in as many breems.

Prowl took it in hungrily, moaning at the sight. His thrusts with the false spike became more forceful, and it wasn't long before he tumbled into his own overload.

After several long moments he relaxed backwards, hand dropping from the toy still buried in his valve. The part of his processors not in a happily melted state commented on how intense that was, how he hadn't overloaded that quickly or hard from a lover's touch most of the time. Another part was commenting on how much endurance _Jazz_ had, and the mech's obvious enjoyment of a variety of activities.

"Think we can do this again?" Jazz voice drifted to him, loud enough to be directed at him and not the sky blue mech.

"I... would not be adverse to a repeat," Prowl replied. "So long as your lover agrees. Nightingale, is it?" At the sky blue mech's nod, he continued. "It is a pleasure to meet you. Jazz has spoken well of you."

Nightingale's jaw dropped at the way Prowl spoke to him, as if there wasn't such a large divide in their respective stations.

"He takes a little getting used to, but it's worth it," Jazz chuckled softly to Nightingale and stole a soft kiss as he almost reluctantly pulled out. "He's a very good kisser too," he added with a deep rumbling purr.

"You are far from average yourself, Jazz," Prowl rumbled in reply and received a brilliant smile in thanks. He watched the silver minibot contently, waiting to see what he would do next.

"Ready for recharge?" Jazz asked him.

"It is likely the best option at this point," Prowl answered with a sigh. He reluctantly pulled the false spike from his valve, shuddering as it glided across over stimulated sensors. He watched the two lightly armored minibots untangle from each other as he reached into his subspace for a cloth to clean himself up with, only to realize the pair were cleaning the fluids off each other with their glossas.

A flash of Jazz's grin told him it was also a show for his enjoyment.

Prowl paused, cloth forgotten in his hand, as he watched the other two clean each other. His fans kicked back up again as he sat, entranced by the sensuality of the pair. By the time they'd cleaned up, he was fully aroused again and trying not to pant through his vents.

"Would you like to watch more, Prowl?" Jazz purred deeply.

"You intended this," Prowl accused without rancor. "Yes, please..."

Nightingale chuckled. "I warn you, Lord Prowl, he's _insatiable_."

"Oh I can be sated," Jazz teased back as he kissed his way up Nightingale's chest. "It is just the rare mech that can manage it."

Prowl groaned, one hand mimicking Jazz's path on his own chest. "Very rare, it seems," he commented, watching as Nightingale tried to pull Jazz up for another kiss.

"There's good reason none of his lovers mind him having one or two others," Nightingale chuckled before capturing Jazz's mouth and glossa. The pair's hands moved along each other's frames, concentrating on their chests.

Prowl watched avidly, stroking his own chest. "Look so good in pleasure..." One hand reached back to stroke what he could reach of one wing panel.

"That too," Nightingale moaned and unlocked his chest plates to Jazz's insistent stroking, his own running along the seams of Jazz's chest plates and the edges of a sensor horn until Jazz opened his chest in turn. "Mech knows how to deliver," he added with a shudder.

"I have to, if I want the attention," Jazz grinned and lowered his head to kiss Nightingale's spark chamber.

Prowl shuddered as Nightingale cried out and arched into the touch. His grip tightened on his wing before he remembered himself and continued to stroke it, his hand trembling as his charge began to build more quickly.

"After all," Jazz murmured against the crystalline chamber, eliciting another cry from the sky blue minibot. "A good lover gives as well as takes. An overload is so much better when shared."

"Agreed," Prowl groaned, his gaze feverish as he pleasured himself to the sight of the other two.

Jazz smiled secretively, pleased to know that about the noble he was courting, and turned his full focus on pleasuring the mech under him. It wasn't long before Nightingale's chamber began to spiral open, prompting Jazz's to do the same.

Instead of beginning to merge, the pair shivered and lifted fingers to play in the coronas of the exposed sparks.

Prowl moaned, optics riveted on Jazz's spark as the bright corona, sky blue with a silver sheen, reached out for its lover with strong tendrils. The part of his processors that were always paying attention and feeding information to his tactical computer noted that Jazz's spark was far too large and strong for the minibot frame it was in, though he had no idea what the significance of the observation was.

Nightingale whimpered at having his lover so close, but not merged. He stroked the corona of Jazz's spark, trying to encourage him to start the merge.

A tender smile and Jazz lowered himself, forcing Nightingale's hand away as their lips and coronas met. Without hesitation the two sparks welcomed each other, caressing and sharing their pleasure without hesitation. The other minibot moaned, deepening the kiss so that their mouths were mimicking what their sparks were doing.

Prowl moaned and shuddered, one hand on his quivering sensor wing, the other stroking his chest and the seam there. He very much wanted to touch his chamber; to feel a lover's spark ... it had been so very long. As careful as he was with selecting a lover, few of them touched his spark.

Jazz moaned into Nightingale's mouth as their sparks drew closer, deep in the coronas. The other whimpered in pleasure, wrapping his legs around Jazz's to lock the silver mech in place.

With a throaty whimper Jazz ground his hips into his lover's, his frame still desiring attention despite the pure, all-encompassing bliss that was spark interfacing.

Prowl only just caught that Nightingale slid his valve cover open to accept a hard spike from above. He let the one hand drop from his chest to wrap around his rapidly re-pressurizing spike, stroking it and his sensor wing as he watched Jazz take his lover's valve and spark with the abandon of one who hadn't overloaded in vorns, rather than one who'd already overloaded three time that half joor.

It was also the first time that either minibot seemed to be completely oblivious to their audience as their sparks took over, commanding their full attention. Their moans and the rocking of Jazz's hips filled Prowl's awareness, along with the flashes of spark-light as the pair merged deeply, nearly causing Nightingale's smaller spark to disappear within Jazz's much larger and brighter one.

The sight was too much for Prowl as he overloaded, his body arching as transfluid spilled from his spike and his wings trembled with bliss. Nightingale was not far behind, his head thrown back with a cry as electricity flowed over his plating, starting at where his spark was centered. Jazz was only a moment behind, willingly dragged over by his lover.

When Prowl managed to focus once more, the minibots had closed their chest plates and were sprawled with their helms towards the head of the berth.

"Join us for recharge?" Jazz looked at Prowl hopefully.

"Yes, I will," Prowl replied as he tottered over to the berth, heedless of his disheveled state. He collapsed next to the other two, one hand reaching out to gently stroke along Jazz's arm. All too soon, he fell into a deep recharge with a minibot on each side, snuggling against him.

He roused in the morning to the sounds of someone prepping the washroom, though he could still feel the warmth of another body next to his on the berth.

"Good morning, Lord Prowl," Nightingale's voice greeted him as he onlined his optics.

"Good morning, Nightingale," replied automatically, letting a hand settle on the minibot's waist. "I trust you had a decent recharge?"

"Yes, my lord," the minibot responded verbally as he moved into the touch by habit born of experience. "I wished to speak to you, about Jazz, my lord."

"Of course." Prowl's fingers traced small circles on Nightingale's plating as he allowed the other to take lead in the conversation.

"If I may ask ... do you intend to ever berth him, my lord?"

"Yes. I'm not intending to lead him on, if that is what you're worried about. I was raised with the idea that all mechs deserve to be courted, no matter their station."

Nightingale nodded. "It's not something he's used to, my lord." He shifted uncomfortably. "I will beg of you not to take his spark."

Prowl blinked at him in surprise. "Why not? Though it is not an act that I am prone to do casually."

The minibot shifted, even more uncomfortable, and glanced towards the washrack door before answering. "He kindles easily, my lord. Lord Blastoff always has the new sparks terminated. It's killing him even if he refuses to admit it."

Prowl stiffened in shock. "He has...? Oh Primus..." Prowl's optics shut off as he shuddered. It took several long moments before he forcibly pulled himself together. "I will not allow that to happen to Jazz while he is in my care. You have my word."

"Thank you, my lord," Nightingale let the tension drain from him. "My spark is weak enough there is little danger, but yours is strong ... he's likely to kindle the first time."

"Thank you for letting me know," Prowl whispered, placing a kiss on the other's helm.

* * *

Prowl had given much thought to Nightingale's words over the course of the orn, usually in his breaks between appointments. Now, however, all thought had been driven from his processors by Jazz's all-too-talented hands. It was becoming harder and harder to refuse his advances, but Prowl wanted to be completely sure all the way to his spark that Jazz was not doing this out of any sense of duty.

"Prowl," Jazz's voice drew his attention towards the silver mech. "Please tell me how I have displeased you."

Prowl looked at him in confusion, reaching up to touch his cheek. "You haven't displeased me. What makes you think that?"

The silver mech bit his lower lip plate and looked away. "Can't think of another reason you're still refusing me when you frame wants the attention."

Prowl sighed, shutting off and resting his helm on Jazz's shoulder. "It is not anything you are doing. I am simply still... afraid." He could feel the confusion radiating from Jazz.

"What of?" Jazz asked, not even trying to hide how bewildered he was.

"Of slave programming," Prowl managed to get out, his arms tightening slightly on the smaller mech. "That your desire for me specifically is being influenced by it, including to convince me that you are willing when you may not be."

Jazz groaned, a sound of pure frustration. "Then look," he insisted, opening a dataport and unlocking his chest plates. "Any way you want. Just _please_ stop teasing me."

The Praxian shuddered as he slid a cable into the offered dataport. He ghosted in as gently as he knew how and found a mech with no secrets from him, all firewalls down.

~Just look,~ Jazz begged him. ~The desire is honest.~

Prowl did as bid, searching the other's coding to see where duty ended and desire began. He whimpered when he saw they were completely separate, and claimed Jazz's mouth in a sizzling kiss.

Jazz could only moan and melt into the contact, relief that was as physical as it was emotional spilling across the connection and into Prowl. It was in that moment that the Praxian got his first real taste of just what it meant to run as hot as Jazz did and he instinctively shied away from the concept of existing in perpetual discomfort that only eased when pleasure spiraled as high as the background arousal.

Prowl devoured the minibot's mouth as his mental presence in the other's coding turned to caresses. He slid along Jazz's coding, well experienced with this form of intimacy. His hands mimicked what he was doing in Jazz's mind, fingers dipping into seams and joints.

With a desperate cry Jazz fumbled, pawing at Prowl's interface port. It was his mind that was crystal clear what he wanted though. A full two-way connection, a desperate desire to pleasure in return, even if he didn't know how nearly so well.

Prowl's port spiraled open at the first touch, more than willing to share pleasure with him. He nipped at a sensor horn, then cried out himself as Jazz plugged in and he was bombarded with pleasure that quickly began to spiral higher and higher.

Too hot, too fast and suddenly Jazz's overclocked systems pushed Prowl into a hard overload without any real warning. An abrupt understanding of how Jazz could want overload after overload arrived from Prowl's political computer. If he spent enough energy, drained his spark of much of its coronal mass, he could feel _normal_ for a few joor.

When he regained control of himself, he ghosted his lips over Jazz's, and ran his hands over Jazz's plating. He may not have had the same problems as Jazz, but he was by no means done for the evening. His hands found Jazz's hips, dipping in to explore the joints, searching for hotspots and using the hardline to track reactions.

Not a single sound Jazz made was false as he pressed into each touch eagerly, chasing the tactile overload on offer without a hint of shame. He tried to return the touch, but Prowl's attention stole his focus until he simply surrendered to it. With his chassis trembling, on the edge of an overload, Jazz could only press the knowledge towards Prowl that he wanted the Praxian to feel good as well.

The desire to be taken, again and again until he collapsed into recharge was a bright, alluring image in the silver mech's mind.

Prowl groaned into Jazz's mouth, and showed him his own desires, to give as much pleasure as he took, to make Jazz feel as good as Jazz was capable of making him. He continued searching out hot spots with one hand, the other sliding over the silver mech's interface panel. As soon as the panel slid back, he sank two fingers in the already slick valve.

"Yesss!" Jazz keened, his thoughts going white with bliss as he overloaded. His valve tightened around the fingers, squeezing and cycling around them. Even as his chassis overloaded it didn't stop seeking the pleasure to drive another overload. Even without the ability to think, Jazz's frame knew what it needed to recharge well.

Prowl's engine revved as his lover's overload washed over him, but he didn't overload himself yet. Instead he nibbled on a sensor horn, adding a third finger to that deliciously wet heat and pumping them. He matched the physical touches with mental ones, experimenting to find out which methods brought Jazz the most pleasure using the cable interface.

A low whimper, a sound of blissful welcome, escaped Jazz as he revved up again, right on the heels of the abating charge. His mind was lost in a wash of pleasure, relief and 'yes' on endless repeat.

Yet despite the ease of gaining a reaction, Prowl's powerful processors could sort out what worked best: touch. Memories blended with real-time for Jazz, providing Prowl with more intimate knowledge of the mech than he was used to having after vorns with someone. He put that knowledge to use, grinding his body against Jazz's. His free hand came up to stroke the other sensor horn, even as his mouth left the first to cover the smaller mech's face with kisses and nips. His fingers twisted in that needy valve before pressing in even further to rub against sensors as deep in as he could reach.

Jazz actually sobbed, his hips rubbing down to meet Prowl's as his spike pressurized into the hard friction. He gave up any pretense of wanting control, any control, even of his own reactions. All he could think was adoration for the mech who would indulge him, who wanted to overload him until he could find recharge's oblivion and cycle up without pain.

Prowl wrapped his legs around his lover's, replacing his hand with his spike quick enough that the minibot couldn’t formulate a protest. He mouthed Jazz's neck even as his spike continued to drive the minibot towards his third overload. The adoration washed over him and sent his spark racing, even as Jazz's pleasure stoked his own higher.

It was an incredible experience on so many levels for Prowl. By the time he'd driven Jazz to three valve overloads, he couldn't hold back his spike overload anymore and he roared, flooding Jazz's valve with transfluid. The silver mech's spike was still standing strong, begging for more attention, even if Jazz's processors had long since devolved into a goo of pleasure and gratitude. Prowl gave that spike a tender stroke as he freed his own before he eagerly sank onto it. His mouth locked on Jazz's as he began to move, body arching as he rode his lover to a final completion.

Two overloads for Jazz, then three ... a forth tore through him, sending him directly into recharge-stasis, when Prowl overloaded around him. The last thing either mech was aware of from Jazz was a blissful kind of quiet contentment as he sank into oblivion.


	4. Hunting the Truth

Prowl cycled up, his frame pleasantly sore and sticky in ways it hadn't been in a very long time. The cause of which was sprawled, completely devoid of tension, on his chest. With a smile Prowl stroked the silver minibot's back, indulging in how pleasant it felt to have a completely contented Jazz with him. It was only feeling this that clued Prowl into how less relaxed Jazz had been every other morning.

In the background his tactical computer shoved something forward for his meta rather insistently.

A line of spark code, too familiar to be ignored or shoved aside, especially with what Prowl knew of Jazz's upbringing.

Royal code.

Prowl was the first to admit he didn't know enough to tell what spark-line it was from, but he knew enough from his time with Lord Whitesong to be sure of what it was.

He would have to do a search to find out which house Jazz’s sire was from. The Library of Iacon would have records of the different royal codes, and he should be able to access them from his desk. He would need to have some time without Jazz for the search...

While he pondered and plotted, his hand rubbed Jazz's back idly, fingers drifting along the edges of seams. He felt the gradual warming and increased hum of systems as Jazz began to boot up. Light twitching turned into blind but affectionate pawing well before Jazz's processors were on line.

Prowl rumbled contentedly, nuzzling one of Jazz's sensory horns as the mech came into awareness. His wings fluttered under Jazz's touch and amusement trickled through the hardline connection still active between the two. Amusement and pleasure at the calmness in Jazz's systems, the lack arousal-need that had been so prominent the night before.

Surprise flickered up from Jazz first, before he was capable of thinking. It was soon followed by the why as his processors caught up with his systems -- no one stayed connected to him.

"Morning," Prowl murmured, placing a kiss on the horn.

"Good morning," Jazz purred and snuggled against him. "You wake up entirely too early," he added teasingly, adoration, amusement and delight flowing freely across the hardline. "First up is my job."

The Praxian chuckled, running his hand along the other's back. "I am accustomed to being the earliest to rise. It baffled my creators until they simply stopped thinking about it." He nipped Jazz's lower lip, pleased to have caused the lovely mech's good mood.

Jazz pressed forward into the kiss, systems entirely too attuned to arouse easily humming to power up as Jazz hands and focus shifted.

For Prowl, it was a fascinating, if highly disturbing, insight into the mech. As arousal built, even the earliest stages clouded Jazz's processors to a significant degree, far more than it should have. Yet within the pleasure and need clouded dulling processors, two very critical sets of protocols remained unaffected. One regarding credits and accounting, the other regarding law, contracts and consent. He made a note to himself to ponder more on the oddity before turning his attention to pleasuring Jazz.

* * *

Joyride looked up when the door to his shop slid open and smiled brightly at the customer he _knew_ never came to just browse or try out his goods and not buy. When Jazz came, he always came with credits and left with something.

"Good morning," Joyride greeted him. "You're back early. Your new Praxian giving gifts already?"

"Yep," Jazz grinned back. "He wants a few toys for _us_ to play with."

"Sounds like you got a lucky break this time. Having fun with him?" Joyride grinned knowingly.

"Oh _yeah_ ," his gleaming silver plating shivered and puffed out in a preening display. "Great fun. I hope he sticks around. I wouldn't mind having him until I'm old enough. So what have you got by way of _interesting_ false spikes, overload inhibitors, duel spikes, basic restraints, edible paints, energon gel and the oils and polishes I hear the royal courtesans talking about?"

The shopkeeper chuckled good-naturedly at Jazz's enthusiasm even as he was thrilled at the extensive and expensive shopping list. Without hesitation he led Jazz to the upper end of the false spikes. Ones that he never tortured the slave with when Jazz was shopping for himself. "This is one of the best I have," he pulled one out with ridges spiraling along its length, "which spins. We also have a selection of spikes that have multiple vibration settings." He pointed out the specific false-spikes. "And finally, we have vibrating ones that can hold themselves in place in the valve. These two," he pointed to simpler designs with nubs spread randomly along the length, "send a charge randomly through the moving nubs."

Jazz shivered and trilled softly, excited even as he gave each a thorough visual and scanner examination, testing weight, balance and function in his hands before selecting three and noting two others he liked if there were funds left over.

"For overload inhibitors, you might want to try this one," Joyride pulled out a deceptively slim model with a ring on one end, and a bend in the long end. "It inhibits overloads in both the spike and valve, while still leaving both free for use."

"Definitely," Jazz nodded as it was added to his selection. "Any suppressors for wings?"

"Here," a beautifully decorated set was pulled out. "This pair clips on right next to the joints and retains a greater range of motion than most wing suppressors." He gave the silver minibot a wink.

"For dual spikes, you'll want to look at these," Joyride showed him the appropriate selection. "One end will lock onto the valve of one partner, much like the false spikes you saw earlier. That end will also vibrate on these," he indicated the specific models, "while this one spins instead."

"Mmm, a spinning one," Jazz murmured to himself as he handled each of three, testing firmness, flexing and the rotation speed and effect around his hand. "This one," he decided on a decorative one, even though he'd selected for functionality.

"So what is your Lord like in the berth," Joyride asked slyly while Jazz browsed the restraints, a section the silver mech needed no directions with.

"Incredible," Jazz shuddered in memory, his engine revving hard. "Not even Lord Blastoff managed to actually 'face me into shutdown. Lord Prowl did on the first night. It was _incredible_. He knows so many tricks and just how to read me. He loves to watch too."

The shopkeeper whistled in surprise, impressed. "Sounds like he enjoys giving as well as taking. Unusual, for one of his rank. Do you think he'll want another slave to assist you?"

Jazz chuckled as he picked out two pairs of handcuffs before moving on to leg restraints. "My regular lovers are preferred. He's Praxian. He prefers to pretend we aren't slaves even more than the last two."

Joyride hummed in acknowledgement. "And how are he and Lord Blastoff getting along?"

"Remarkably well," Jazz winked his visor at the shopkeeper as he picked up a set of nicely padded wing restraints. "Lord Prowl's exceedingly well educated, speaks logically and politely and I'd be willing to bet he has an advanced tactical computer installed. Of course, they've both avoided the topics of dissent so far too, so I haven't gotten to see how a debate goes down. Gels and paints?"

"Over here," Joyride led him to the section. "Has he said how he got the appointment?"

"No," Jazz shook his head as he read over the flavors and descriptions. "I know it's his first, and his House is a prominent one, but that's all public record."

"He doesn't object to you showing off your education?" Joyride asked, smiling privately at Jazz's quirk of taking pride in the all but forbidden skills he possessed.

"Nope, though I haven't show I know how to read yet," Jazz admitted. "I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't even notice. Praxus educates everyone after all, at least to your level."

"What other expectations is he carrying over from Praxus?" the larger mech asked curiously.

"Mmm, I think he had some issues with public pleasure, but I'm making dents in that," Jazz chuckled and picked out two flavors of gel and a paint set of sixteen colors. "Not sure if that's Praxian or just being young though. Not that he has _anything_ to be shy about on that count."

Once Jazz was done picking edibles, he led the slave to the counter of high-end oils and polishes. "Highly experienced, then?"

Jazz could only laugh brightly. "The mech 'faced me offline on his first try. Yeah, he's experienced. Pit of a good berthmate. What do you recommend? He's black and white with red chest vents and chevron and gold highlights." Jazz asked when he realized he was out of his depth on this one. He could pick something good enough, but he also knew black and white were both difficult colors to maintain well. Metallics were too, but he knew how to care for those intimately. Better than his current master's personal servants if Prowl's gold was anything to go by.

"Black and white, hmm? Perhaps you should try the Contrast and Starbright brands. They do well at showcasing both black and white. We have versions that repel some dust and grime, and others that cause sensations of tingling, warmth, or cold for a joor or so after application. Amongst the oils we have ones that cause similar sensations, or have fragrances." Joyride indicated the various blends for each brand.

"Cold?" Jazz looked at him curiously. "Is that sensual for many?"

"For some, mostly as a contrast to warmth." The shopkeeper shrugged. It wasn't up to him to understand others' kinks beyond what was needed to figure out and sell to them what they wanted.

Jazz nodded his understanding to both the idea and the shrug. "I'll stick with the tingling and warm. And he likes the scent of teal crystals and a wild crystal garden."

Joyride pulled the appropriate ones, placing them with the rest of the purchases before they fell into playful small talk about everything and nothing, indulging Jazz's gregarious nature and Joyride's curiosity about palace doings.

* * *

Prowl sighed, staring at his screen. It had been easy enough to looking up the royal sparkcodes after Jazz was on his way. Once he had identified the family, it had been logical to move onto researching the known members. If it had been an unknown slave member, then Jazz would have been claimed as proof of good breeding. Thus, it was likely the slave's sire was an acknowledged royal who didn't want anyone connecting Jazz to him.

That led to his current topic: the interactions between body size and spark size. He was trying to get through it as quickly as possible. Jazz was expected to return at any moment. Right now he knew enough to be extremely disturbed, even if Jazz hasn't been of royal descent. There was no way it was an accident; a discrepancy as significant as Jazz's took prolonged medical attention until the final upgrades. It was time consuming, expensive and had a high failure rate.

He was still scrambling to process it all when the door slid open with a cheery "Greetings, Lord Prowl" before it closed behind Jazz.

"Jazz!" Prowl's helm snapped up and his wings flared in surprised, before resettling. "Ah, how did your errand go?"

"Very good," he grinned as he headed for the berthroom. "Everything on the list and some other goodies. Your research going well?"

"Yes." Prowl's wings trembled briefly, before he forced them to still. To distract himself, he stood and followed Jazz, watching him put the purchased goods away. It was quite a collection, and Jazz was clearly excited; chatting rapidly about what each item was, what it did, what it was for, why he'd selected what he had. Prowl allowed Jazz's excitement to wash over him, knowing it would disappear quickly when Prowl started the conversation.

Once everything had been put away, Prowl moved and sat on the berth. "Jazz?" His voice was quiet, somber.

The silver mech froze at the tone and turned to give his full attention to his master.

"If it were possible to know who your sire is, would you want to?" Prowl's gaze met Jazz's, the uncertainty and pain for him clear in his optics.

The dark blue visor cycled once, then twice, and Prowl began to worry he may have crashed his lover's CPU.

"Do I want to know who my sire is?" Jazz repeated almost dumbly as his EM field pulled in tight to his protoform in distress.

Jazz dropped into a nearby chair, sprawled with a relaxed frame that completely belied his actual state; that he was ready to explode.

"Do I want to know who my sire is?" Jazz's voice dropped to a growl, dripping venom. "Do I want to know who didn't want me enough to buy a well-used breeder slave well past her best vorns? Do I want to know, without any doubt, that I might have had a real _life_? Maybe never as an acknowledged creation, but at least enough to get upgrades to match my spark. To be something other than a breeder, used to produce hundreds of new slaves until my spark finally gives out before I see a millennia." His frame was trembling now, the rage, pain and resignation to his fate mingling into something frightening to witness from the normally cheerful, affectionate mech. "Do I want to know, without a doubt, the _designation_ of the reason I'm almost a third of the way to my end already and still have a century and a half before my spark is fully mature? The designation to blame for the pleasurebot protocols running my systems just so I can stay half sane?

" _Should_ I want to know that designation?" Jazz hissed, trembling in the outrage fueled by finally giving voice to his grief of a lifetime.

Then other protocols kicked in and calmed him, soothed away the anger, the pain, the fear of what was coming until Jazz smiled and relaxed again with a sigh of relief.

"It doesn't matter who my sire is," the silver mech said softly, completely back to normal and rational. "It could be the Lord Prime himself and it wouldn't matter. My carrier was Lord Blastoff's property when I separated, so I'm Lord Blastoff's property. He's not about to let me go, not for any price. At least not until he's gotten every sparkling he can out of me. Mechs have tried to buy me, young as I am. Powerful mechs. He'll hear none of it."

"It is your choice," Prowl said softly, spark aching for what the other mech had lived through, and what his projected future held.

Jazz shook his head. "No, I don't want to know, however it is you think you can prove it. It won't change anything for me."

"Then I will encrypt and bury the knowledge in my memories, so that you do not accidentally come across it."

Jazz gave him a funny look, somewhere between confused and incredulous. "Just what do you know ... Prowl, what did you find in me?"

Prowl vented deeply. "There was a line of code in your sparkcodes... I didn't notice at the time but after we awoke I realized that it was similar to a code I had seen before. That is what I was researching while you were gone."

With a small nod Jazz x-vented deeply. "Got it," he murmured. "What ... good ... did you think might come of knowing?"

Prowl shrugged. "I still need to full process the implications. As for you knowing... Some mechs wish to know, no matter the personal cost. I wanted to give you the choice, rather than choose for you." Prowl stood up, but only to kneel next to Jazz, reaching out to see if his touch would be welcome.

He almost immediately found himself with an armful of trembling, distressed mech. Even as Jazz clung to him, the silver mech's EM field reached out, seeking comfort in Prowl's. Comfort that Prowl was all too willing to give, intertwining their fields and crooning softly in his audio. The emotional intensity Jazz's field bombarded him with brought to mind that the mech _was_ young, in his final frame or not.

"Could ... could you tell how much in-breeding there is?" Jazz asked in a tiny, trembling voice.

"I am not a specialist, and I did not get a full look," Prowl replied quietly, pressing his helm against Jazz's. He gathered the smaller mech onto his lap, cradling him as close as possible.

Jazz nodded weakly against his chest, a keen trying to work from his vocalizer that never quite made it out. Instead he simply clung to the mech willing to comfort him and let emotions he had no real name for or understanding of crash through him until it settled fully.

"I'm sorry," Jazz whispered when he'd finally stopped trembling.

"There is _nothing_ to be sorry for," Prowl replied. He placed a kiss on the center of Jazz's forehead, much like what his own creators had done to him when he was a sparkling needing comfort. The silver mech, the size of a Praxian youngling, shivered and whimpered softly at the touch and the gentle insistence of the field tangled with his own.

"You want me to want to know," Jazz whispered, slave code, survival code and his own inquisitive nature at war over the choice. He _did_ want to know. He knew that knowing would be the death of him even younger than expected. Nothing good could come of it, but did that really matter? Could he turn down knowledge, even such dangerous knowledge?

"Not necessarily," Prowl replied softly, still trying to comfort and soothe. "As you pointed out earlier, no matter who it is the knowledge will cause a great deal of pain. The main reason I could see telling you now would be so that you are not taken by surprise in a less controlled setting in the future. However, I doubt it would be brought up in your presence..." Prowl's voice became quieter. "Remember, you could always chose to learn at a later date, but you can never _unlearn_ the knowledge once you have it."

Jazz made a small noise of understanding as he struggled to pull himself together and gather his wits. "It's ... he's not the Lord Prime, right?" He asked even as his hands began to stroke his master's plating. He wasn't aroused, not in the least, but it was a far better thing than to be cowering in his _master's_ arms like a panicked sparkling. Jazz was stronger than that. He had to be just to remain sane.

"No, it is not the Lord Prime," Prowl replied, giving him a gentle squeeze. "Talk to me, Jazz. Tell me what's on your processor."

The silver mech shivered, relieved at the news and frightened of the order. Yet he _wanted_ to talk, _wanted_ to let his anger spill out. It had only been the slave code keeping him in check so far, and now it faced the quandary of whether to keep him content or follow his master's orders.

Orders won out, as they always did.

"Do you know what the slave code actually does?" Jazz asked very quietly.

"Only rumors, and those are not reliable sources," Prowl replied equally quiet, holding Jazz as if he were a youngling.

"At least here, some mech worked out that content slaves didn't rebel and happy ones were more productive. So they rebuilt the slave-code from the base up. You saw what it does. Outbursts happen, but they're soothed over quickly. Probably sixty percent of us have the processor power to learn how to turn it off, but it's a rare slave that does," Jazz murmured. "Makes functioning a _lot_ more agreeable."

Prowl frowned, "But it does not allow you to work through your emotions properly..." He rubbed Jazz's back gently. "And there are grievances that _should_ be addressed, not glossed over."

"Not for slaves," Jazz murmured. "We're property, not people, under the law. The only protections are those for the master to protect his property or receive compensation if it's damaged."

"You know I do not agree with that. You are a person to me." Prowl let his forehead rest against Jazz's, still rubbing his back. "If you want to talk, no matter how much the subject upsets you, I will listen."

"Okay," he sighed, relaxing slightly. "The code's why we have such happy lives. It _is_ good, mostly. Just sometimes ... I'm too smart for my own good. The code can't always catch thoughts before they take hold."

Light, exploring fingers moved over Prowl's armor.

"Do you know how a breeder's made?"

Prowl allowed his own to run over Jazz's armor, trying to pleasure without generating so much as to distract from the conversation. "I assume the difference between frame and spark sizes has something to do with it."

"Yes, every once in a while it's natural, but slave breeders are _made_ ," Jazz shivered. "Every time we go into the protoform tanks to grow, we come out to have much of the mass siphoned off. It hurts ... gets worse as the upgrades pile up. Every dunk in the tanks and your spark adds all the protoform mass it should have. My last round ... I'm half the size I was when I was pulled out.

"It's not so bad until the mechling upgrades though. Before that, we're just hyperactive. Afterwards, all that extra energy is funneled into desire, arousal, since an overload's the fastest way to burn off extra energy. You got a taste of just what it takes for me to burn off enough to really recharge well."

Prowl shuddered, holding Jazz tight. "That is horrible. No mech should be forced through a process like that." Prowl placed a kiss on the side of Jazz's helm.

"At lest I have the good sense not to turn the slave protocols off for long," Jazz chuckled grimly. "Constant arousal is mildly annoying, but I'm _sane_ enough to stay out of medical stasis until I extinguish. Unlike my crazy brother."

"What?" Prowl straightened sharply in surprise. "What happened? Your brother?"

"Ricochet," Jazz supplied his designation. "He was our carrier's first. I was her second to last. He had to be put in stasis a few vorns after his mechling upgrades, long before I was kindled. I've seen him, but never met him."

"Why did he have to be put into stasis?"

Jazz murmured wordlessly for a moment. "Have you ever tried to deal with a psycho mech who can't process input correctly?"

"No, I have not..." Prowl replied softly.

"Well, it's pretty much impossible. If he was a free mech, he'd have been put down. As a breeder slave, Lord Blastoff didn't need him self-aware to breed him, so he's in stasis."

Prowl shuddered at that, his hold on Jazz tightening.

"I like my existence more than his. It's mostly good for me."

"What was it like before you were assigned to me?" Prowl asked, nuzzling the silver helm.

Jazz giggled and nuzzled him in return. "That's the up side of being a breeder. We get the best energon, medial care care, supplements and protection available. As long as the adults keep producing healthy sparks, they have almost no duties but to enjoy themselves. I have a few, but since I groove on singing, dancing and interfacing, it's not really like work. I do a lot of the shopping for the palace, since I'm a good socializer."

"What was a normal day like?" One of Prowl's hands slid down to stoke along Jazz's thigh.

"Mmm, wake up in the arms of a lover, a couple overloads, energon and polish up to perform for Lord Blastoff and his guests for breakfast. Snag somebot or two for a quickie. Spend time with the other breeders, maybe go shopping. Several more overloads before dinner where I preformed again. Time to read or study. Head to the berth and a lover."

"Do you prefer that, or this?" Prowl asked curiously, his fingers teasing along the edges of the thigh armor.

Jazz pressed into the touch and arched against Prowl's chassis. "Now that you're agreeable to 'facing me, I think I like this," he purred deeply, his EM field reaching out eagerly. "You're a _very_ agreeable mech to be with."

Prowl smiled at Jazz's response before leaning in and kissing him. "We should have time before the dinner guests arrive..." His engine rumbled suggestively and his field twined with Jazz's.

"Definitely," Jazz moaned and arched, his field broadcasting his desire to submit, to be _taken_ even more than his frame. Without hesitation his legs spread, allowing him to kneel while sitting on Prowl's lap. "Want you, babe."

"Want you too, Primus help me," Prowl groaned, kissing Jazz fiercely and stroking at his interface panel.


	5. The Price of Survival

Prowl moaned as he pressed Jazz against the wall next to the door in the berth room. They had just barely made it in after waiting for the guests to leave following a dinner party hosted at the Praxian Ambassador's palace.

"What do you want?" he asked in Jazz's audio, voice husky with desire.

"Spark," Jazz gasped, his chest plates already unlocking. "Haven't felt your spark yet."

Prowl gasped, his optics widening. How could Jazz want that, knowing how high his chances of kindling were? "Why?" he managed to gasp out.

"It's _good_ Prowl," Jazz moaned into a kiss, his hands stroking Prowl's wings eagerly. "Feels _really_ good."

He groaned, wings twitching back from Jazz's touch to preserve his thought processes. "But what about you...? The risk of kindling?"

"Don't worry about it," Jazz nibbled his way down Prowl's neck. "New sparks won't last."

Prowl pulled back, venting heavily. "I know what your orders are. Don't want you to have to go through that. Not while you're under my care."

"He doesn't get many," Jazz cooed reassuringly and pressed forward. "In the first six decaorns it'll dissolve if I merge with someone else."

"It's still the same result, either way. I can't, Jazz." Prowl shuddered.

"I'm sorry," Jazz stopped his sensual assault. "Didn't mean to upset you," he offered a gentle kiss and turned his hands to Prowl's wings again.

Prowl returned the kiss softly, tenderly, and whispered so softly as to barely be heard, "You deserve so much better."

"Fill me?" Jazz asked instead of replying, lifting his leg up to curl around Prowl's aft and slid his valve cover open. Prowl kissed him again, pressing against Jazz's groin so that his spike pressurized directly into the smaller mech's valve.

They moaned in unison, the slick heat enveloping Prowl's spike as Jazz's valve squeezed and rippled around it.

Prowl worked him over, quickly using his spike to bring Jazz to two successive overloads before moving them to the berth for a more stable platform. He plugged in, using hardline to both enhance their pleasure and to monitor Jazz's arousal.

Their final overloads left them both wrung out on the berth, strutless but not yet in recharge.

"Jazz?" Prowl murmured in his audio.

"Yeah?" the silver minibot mumbled, more than happy to snuggle against Prowl's chest with a depressurizing spike in his valve.

"About earlier... How do _you_ feel about the sparks kindled?" Prowl ran a soothing hand up Jazz's back, keeping the minibot close and watching carefully along the hardline to track what was _Jazz_ and what was various foreign codes interfering with him.

Prowl caught the unvoiced thought, a semi-confused 'it doesn't matter' and listened to what Jazz actually said as well.

"I can't think about them as anything more than a parasite," Jazz said softly, a rumble of turmoil deep in his meta over the reality. "A side effect to be cured the same way it's created. It's just loose energy until it's three metacycles old."

'I miss them all' was whispered from deep inside Jazz's mind. 'My sparklings.'

Prowl instinctively replied to Jazz's deepest thoughts, hugging him tightly. "Either way, I don't want to force you to make that decision. If I could, I would make it so that you never had to lose another again." He brought one hand up to cradle the back of Jazz's helm. "I know I will have no say once you are no longer in my care, but until then... I don't want you to have to make that decision."

A wordless whimper of thanks drifted up, even as Jazz's upper mind was sad. "I'm hoping you'll have this post until I'm old enough to be bred," he dared voice his desire. "Until then ... I don't really choose. It's just a pattern to keep. Make sure I get a good merge once every few decaorns and it all works out. Even if I'm yours until you leave, I don't always get a choice in the matter. But I won't ask you again."


	6. Meeting Kin

"Prowl?" Jazz's voice held that sing-song quality of good-natured mischief that Prowl was likely to enjoy. "Do you have a joor or two free to visit some of my friends?"

"You know I do," Prowl replied with a barely-there smile, standing from his desk. "Where will you lead me?"

"A place no free mech goes," the lithe silver mech purred, snuggling up to Prowl's side as he took his hand. "To meet the closest thing I have to family, even if it's not by lineage."

"I am honored." Prowl held him close, pausing when the silver minibot did. Approval radiated from Jazz, but also concern. A vorn together had taught the pair how to read the other well, and Jazz was far more nervous than he let on.

"If you ever feel uncomfortable, just comm me and we can leave," Jazz looked up at him, radiating sincerity. "They know you are relatively uneasy with public interfacing and promised to try and behave, but these are four mechs with interface drives as strong as mine and far less experience with the idea of not touching."

"Thank you." Prowl leaned in and placed a kiss on his helm. "Even that they would attempt to is appreciated."

Jazz smiled, gathered himself, and led the way outside where they transformed for the relatively short drive. It passed in silence until they arrived at the royal palace and transformed to walk inside.

"Is there anything else about your family that I should be aware of before I meet them?" Prowl asked, wings giving a subtle nervous flutter.

"You're the first outsider we've allowed into our home in living memory," Jazz said quietly, guiding Prowl through the palace with the familiar ease of having grown up there. "Kesh is the sparkling. Tempo, Tango, Silver and Jamboree are the younglings. Leaf and Vale are the mechlings. We aren't expecting Leaf to make it. Echo is the other immature mech. Sequence and Dart are the adults. Dart's expecting in a metacycle. Sequence is in the recovery metacycle."

Prowl nodded, absorbing the information. "What is the best way to acknowledge, or not, one's carrying, or having recently carried?"

"We don't, not really," Jazz said softly. "We aren't allowed to raise our sparklings unless they're going to be breeders. It's just something I've learned free mechs care about knowing. It just means that Dart will be rather lethargic and Sequence more hyper than most adults."

Prowl nodded, though it caused an ache in his spark for the mechs he was about to meet, and what it meant for Jazz's future. "And the younger members? Are any of them related to Dart or Sequence?"

Jazz had to actually think about that for a moment. "Not something we really keep track of either, but Leaf is Dart's. Kesh and Echo are Sequence's. All the others are from breeders who extinguished. No ... Silver was bought as a sparkling. Don't know the fate of her carrier, but it wasn't a breeder."

Prowl nodded. "Thank you. I truly do not wish to make any of them uncomfortable with an unintentionally insensitive remark."

Jazz smiled indulgently and leaned against him as they entered the slave section of the palace. "You wouldn't be blamed for it. You're a free mech, a foreign noble. No one expects you to have a clue."

"I am an ambassador, though. It is my job to be aware of differences in culture." Prowl gave him a squeeze, while looking around. The area was clean, well-lit, well-constructed and maintained to Prowl's optic, but it was also quite plain. Rather like the military compound he'd once visited with his oldest brother. Well cared for, but utilitarian. While he was glad that the slave's home was not neglected, it did sadden him a bit that there was no decorations or other signs of _life_.

Jazz hummed and guided him into the center of the complex. Along the way, Prowl realized that he hadn't seen anyone else since they entered the complex. His wings gave a slight flick of discomfort at the silence and he made a note to ask Jazz about it at a later. He allowed his fingers to idly stroke the plating under them, though light enough that it wouldn't rouse Jazz's interface protocols.

He was led to a door that looked like so many others except for the hand-carved characters for 'interface room' and a crude picture that most rooms didn't have of a couple spark merging.

"Ready?" Jazz looked up at him.

Prowl vented deeply and resettled his wings, a tinge of nervousness in his field. These mechs were important to Jazz, and he wanted to give them a favorable impression. "Ready."

Jazz nodded and keyed the door open, revealing a large entry room with sections of padded flooring, chairs, couches, a couple large tables and a vid entertainment center on one side. Three doors lead elsewhere, but all were closed.

Prowl found himself in the familiar position of being the center of attention, but this time the audience was unusual. Despite Jazz's words, these ten mechs gave every sign of being a tight-knit family as a chrome and gold finished mech, polished to the same mirror finish Jazz maintained, that they all maintained, stood from a couch where he'd been snuggling with a gold and silver mech.

::Sequence, the oldest of us and clade leader,:: Jazz pinged Prowl's comm.

Prowl remained still, treating the mech as he would any House lord, and waited for him to speak first.

"Lord Prowl of Praxus," Sequence bowed to him. "Welcome to my clade's home. Please, sit and be comfortable."

"Thank you, Sequence." Prowl returned the bow with one he would offer when meeting the head of a free servant's family. "It is an honor and pleasure to meet you and your clade." Prowl allowed Jazz to lead him further in and settled on one of the double-seats as he realized that every piece of furniture in the lounging area was designed for at least two mechs to be close but comfortable. An assessment that was confirmed when Jazz sat down and half sprawled across his chest to get comfortable, and Prowl automatically wrapped a loose arm around his waist.

The rest of the clade moved over, the youngest keeping the most distant but clearly curious about this outsider. Prowl was the first besides their medic that the sparkling and younglings had really seen up close, and he was of a very unusual frametype for the city.

A bronze and silver mechling stepped close and offered them each a cube of energon. His frame was still, but given how tight his EM field was to his frame, Prowl had little doubt he was nervous as the pit to be this close. His optics kept flicking to Prowl's sensor wings.

"Mine, Leaf." Jazz actually growled, flaring his armor briefly in warning.

The younger mech scrambled away, though Prowl couldn't help but notice that even in mild fear he was as graceful in his movements.

"They've never seen an outsider before, not even the other slaves for the most part," Jazz spoke up with a nod towards the younglings and sparkling. "Only the medic that checks each of us once a metacycle or so. We're our own little culture, even among slaves. We try to shield them until they're old enough to act and react in a way others will understand."

"I must admit, I was shocked when Jazz told me about your reaction to merging sparks," Sequence spoke up, his gaze level and commanding. No matter his status in the outside world, Prowl had no doubt that he was very much the leader here.

Prowl tilted his head curiously. "What exactly about my reaction was shocking to you?"

"You are the first in memory to refuse, and your reason is still one that puzzles us," he explained smoothly. "Jazz is old enough and he is well-accustomed to dealing with the results."

::Please, _please_ don't tell them how much I hate losing them,:: Jazz's comm was half panicked.

Prowl sent reassurance to Jazz through their fields even as he smoothly replied, "I'm afraid it's my own feelings and upbringing that get in the way. We consider the newsparks kin from the moment of kindling, and could not bear to lose them. Even though my family would be unlikely to find out, it is too deeply engrained."

The two adults nodded as they rested against each other affectionately. Echo had found a spot on the floor between them and was the happy recipient of affection from both of them. Though so far it was within Prowl's social standards, it was obviously an effort to keep it that way.

They shared a glance, then Dart, an almost mirror image of Sequence, focused on Prowl. "There are rumors that you would buy Jazz, if you could."

"I do not know who started those rumors, though... I admit it would be nice if I could keep him close. I have developed a great deal of affection for him, far beyond him being the best assistant I have had." Prowl's arm around the silver mech tightened briefly.

"Enough to wait until he's available to buy?" Sequence asked, his voice serious.

"Yes," was the immediate reply. Jazz was too wonderful, and if the very least was all he could do, then he would at least try to provide Jazz a comfortable, caring home in semi-retirement.

"Then remain the ambassador here for at least the next six hundred vorns," Sequence said simply. "Jazz will know when he is near the end of his usefulness to Lord Blastoff. He should be willing to sell Jazz then."

"If you request to keep me after I'm of age, Lord Blastoff is likely to agree as long as you understand I can't be as active anymore," Jazz murmured. "I'll either be carrying or recovering."

"Be warned, even with only a couple sparklings left we are not sold cheap," Dart added grimly. "Expect him to ask for at least three hundred thousand, possibly much more."

Prowl nodded, his hand rubbing Jazz's plating idly. "I will factor all of that in. Thank you." His optics flickered off for a moment and he nuzzled Jazz's helm in pure affection.

"If you sire any sparklings that are not going to be breeders, they'll be much more normally priced," Echo said. "We've only so valuable because of the investment that goes into us and how many new slaves we can produce."

"I would rather not have to buy my own sparklings," Prowl remarked quietly. That was one of the aspects of the slavery system in Protihex that rubbed him the worst.

Various mechs nodded.

"Just something to keep in mind, if it happens," Jazz murmured. "Unlikely given our breeding is fairly well controlled and your self-control, but it's been known to happen."

"Lord Blastoff doesn't usually charge extra if you're looking to buy your creation, though it does annoy him," Dart told him.

"Why does it annoy him?" he asked curiously, hugging Jazz close.

"For him, it's lost profits," Dart explained. "A sparkling sells for much less than a fully upgraded mech because of the time and resources required before they become useful," he motioned to the sparkling with them. Though able to stand and Prowl expected it could speak, they spent so much energy on growing and integrating into their protoforms that they couldn't do much work.

Prowl nodded his understanding, though he wasn't sure what to say in response. He still had his moments where he struggled with the realities of slavery in Protihex, though he was able to hide his unease.

After a few moments, Prowl asked, "What do you normally do in your down time? For hobbies and the like."

"Interface," Echo snickered. "The little ones play games and watch to pick up basic function skills."

"I like to dance," Silver, who as her designation implied was solid silver, piped up.

Prowl chuckled at Echo's response, then smiled indulgently at Silver. "I am sure you are a lovely dancer. Would you like to show me?"

The youngling looked at Sequence, then back and Prowl with a grin and nod. "Sure."

::She knows the same dances I do,:: Jazz warned him gently. ::Even though she's too young to really grasp what it's intended to do, these are the skills of our function.::

::I thought that would likely be the case,:: Prowl replied, equally gently. ::It does not change her obvious enjoyment. Praxian dancers often start as younglings as well, especially when they are from families with a tradition of dancing.:: Prowl gave the youngling his attention, smiling softly.

It wasn't at all difficult for Prowl to not see eroticism in the moves Silver made, fluid and well-executed as they were, even though the same motions by Jazz normally had him hot and revved up in moments. Something that usually lead to them interfacing long before the end of the dance.

It would be nice to actually see the full performance ... if Jazz managed to remain calm enough. The silver mech's field was already picking up with his desires. A state that the other interface-enabled mechs were also in, if the shift in touches were any indication. Leaf and Vale had already given up on 'polite' and were oblivious to the rest of the room as they kissed.

Prowl resisted the desire in Jazz's field, though he didn't pull away. ::I wish to see the dance through at least once,:: he chided Jazz playfully over the comm.

::May I play with Echo then?:: Jazz asked, his gaze locked on the gold and silver mech near his own age.

::Of course,:: Prowl replied, his hold loosening so Jazz could join his age-mate on the floor. He kept his attention on the dancing youngling. It was obvious that she was very good for her age and that she took great pleasure in dancing, and that was what Prowl enjoyed in her performance.

It did take much of his focus to keep his attention on her once Jazz had Echo flat on his back and was kissing the gold and silver mech passionately, their glossa dueling for control as their hands stroked and teased each other's frames.

He did manage, giving the youngling almost his full attention the entire time. He was the only one with interface protocols to do so, he noted. She didn't seem to mind, though. In fact, she seemed rather proud that she'd gotten all the adults to pay attention to each other. It shifted her movements from a dance for the room to a dance for him.

Prowl smiled as her dance came to a close. "You are a lovely dancer, Silver," he praised the youngling. "You will have mechs overloading in their seats when you are old enough to perform in front of an audience. If you would excuse me a moment..." The Praxian moved over to where the two younger adults were and pulled them apart just enough to claim a searing kiss from Jazz.

He heard her giggle happily, Echo moan at the sight and Jazz shivered against him, his spike buried deep in Echo's valve.

"Take me?" Jazz breathed as their mouths parted with the distinctive sound of his valve cover snapping open.

"Oh _yes_ ," Echo shivered at the idea. His optics looked up at Prowl in open desire for him to join them.

Prowl groaned and nipped at Jazz's lips as his reservations snapped. His spike nearly exploded from its housing and he sank it into the familiar valve with a pleasure-filled hiss that was echoed by both mechs below him.

Later he would remember how quickly Jazz went from the dominant partner to the eagerly pliant submission Prowl was used to, but for now all he was aware of was the intense pleasure and eager cries encouraging him to pound Jazz into Echo. Cries that he didn't hesitate to respond to, setting a hard and fast pace.

Jazz keened a hard duel overload, his valve and spike arching electricity into his lovers at the same time before he trembled and went partially lax, gasping to recover.

Prowl shuddered through the silver mech's overload. His thrusts slowed, gentled, and he mouthed one of Jazz's sensor horns. Jazz moaned and pressed into the touch, his valve squeezing and rippling around Prowl's spike as he sought to encourage the larger mech to pick up the pace again.

Prowl did so, hands wrapping around to stroke Echo even as he quickly worked Jazz back up again.

"So hot," Echo moaned, pressing into the touch even as his attention was focused on watching and feeling the action above him. He wouldn't last much longer, even if he was inclined to try. "So hot."

"Prowl's incredible," Jazz moaned, shivering as he felt Echo build up towards an overload. "So good."

"You're the incredible one, Jazz," Prowl groaned, thrusting harder. "Always feel so good." It wasn't long before the three overloaded together with mingled cries.


	7. Calling Home

Prowl set aside the datapads he had been working on and turned to the communicator on his desk. It was time for his regularly-scheduled call to home, so he brought up the familiar frequency and sent the request. He was a bit nervous for this call because there was one topic he wanted to cover, and he wasn't sure how it would be received. He settled his wings, not letting his worry show.

"Prowl," the voice of his carrier was delighted as it always was when greeting him. Zyphra could be a vicious politician and business mech, but when it came to family, he was an adoring creator. "You look well."

"Carrier." Prowl smiled, wings flicking in pleasure. "Thank you. You do as well. How are the rest?"

"Healthy and in Flashpoint's case, very feisty," Zyphra chuckled in good humor. "All your intelligence and critical processing ability with an artist's creativity. He will be an amazing designer when he's fully educated."

"Until then, the household remains in survival mode?" Prowl asked with affectionate teasing.

"Of course," he smiled affectionately. "How goes your assignment?"

"It goes well. We are planning a celebration to run concurrent with the Solar Festival. Naturally, it won't be as large as the one held in the Helix Gardens, but it should give the mechs here a taste of Praxus." Prowl's wings swung idly, content with the planning. "Jazz has been a large help with organizing the celebration."

"It is good to hear he has been an exceptional servant," Zyphra nearly purred. "I had some concerns with the size of the staff we sent with you."

"He is wonderful, and I am very glad to have him here." Prowl's wings twitched with the beginnings of tension. "Though... There is something I wished to discuss with you regarding him."

"Of course, dear," Zyphra's wings shifted to a supportive angle, offering his full attention.

"Does my little bro have a serious lover?" another male voice purred teasingly as a second helm poked into view.

And in a moment Prowl was transformed into a nervous youngling. "Yes, though that is not the entirety of it, Flashdrive." Prowl tried to smile for the older brother he had idolized as a youngling.

"Never is," Flashdrive grinned as light gleamed off his bright red chevron, the only physical trait he shared with younger brother. "Data, bro. I want to hear this ... unless you'd rather send video for my enjoyment."

"Flashdrive!" Zyphra gasped, making a display of being far more appalled than he really was. "Where are your manners?"

"In storage for when it's not clade," Flashdrive winked a rich blue optic at him.

The second creation's humor had its intended affect as Prowl chuckled and relaxed. "Jazz wouldn't mind. Though..." Here Prowl vented deeply and gathered himself. "You two are aware of the differing social institutions of Protihex?"

"Yes," Zyphra sighed. "Jazz is a slave, then?"

Prowl nodded solemnly. "An immature breeder slave, to be specific. I made it clear to him the night he was given to me that I was not going to treat him as a slave, and that he could refuse me without backlash. We cannot make it obvious in the company of others here, but he has become comfortable with my insistence on his independence to chose what he wants."

"That's good, as long as he doesn't take liberties with others," Zyphra frowned softly. "Prowl, Lord Blastoff is well known for _never_ selling a breeder."

"I know," Prowl sighed. "Jazz's adopted kin think he might be persuaded if I waited until Jazz was almost at the end of his breeding vorns, but he would still be very expensive. But... I have become too attached. I have seen how Jazz truly feels, what is suppressed by the slave coding. I want to try to save him from that."

"You know I will support you any way I can, but I can not support you in committing a crime," Zyphra warned, his wings twitching in distress. "Have you thought of a plan, even the beginning of one?"

"Yeah, we'll all back you bro," Flashdrive said firmly. "But you know you can't be caught ... Jazz is worth more than your life there."

"I would not commit a crime, you know that." Prowl's wings twitched in annoyance that they would even consider the possibility. "I... have an idea, but it is rather extreme, and while not illegal it would undermine my ability to stay here in a professional capacity. I am trying to come up with an alternative plan, though that is proving difficult." Prowl looked down, clearly upset that even a computer as advanced as the one installed in his CPU was having difficulty coming up with a legal way to acquire Jazz.

"Bro," Flashdrive's voice went soft, soothing as he tried to reach out despite the distance between them. "Perhaps between us we can work it out."

Their carrier frowned. "This is your first assignment Prowl. Is he truly worth your future? This could have a very negative impact on your ability to get a good station."

"I do not wish for it to have such a negative impact on future advancements, but Carrier... I would consider Jazz a good friend in addition to being a lover and assistant." Prowl's gaze locked with Zyphra's, his optics pleading.

Graceful metallic blue and gold sensor wings slumped. "If you are that certain you wish to bond with this mech, we will do anything we can to help you."

Prowl's optics cycled repeatedly as his sensor wings flared in shock. "Bond?" Where had that come from?

"Any mech worth your _career_ and the risk of shaming this House had better be worth bonding to," Lord Zyphra locked optics with his third creation.

"Just back up and tell us the plan you've thought up so far," Flashdrive tried to keep Prowl from crashing from shock.

Prowl remained staring at his carrier for several long moments before he managed to physically shake himself from the impending processor lock. Instead, he turned his attention to his older brother. "I accidentally came across some information... Information that could be potentially damaging to Lord Blastoff's international image." He fidgeted as he let them process the implications of what he insinuated. "I would rather save it as a method of last resource."

"Blackmail then," Zyphra hummed in approval. "Any ideas before that?"

Prowl shook his helm. "I still need to do more research into the legalities before I can begin submitting ideas for consideration. I just... I wanted to know where the family stood before I began the major planning." To know for sure if his family would understand his desire to free Jazz and keep him close.

"If you are sure he is worth the risk, we will support you," Zyphra said firmly. "I only intend for you to be aware of what is at risk."

"Yeah, if this mech makes you happy, we're with you," Flashdrive nodded. "It's not like you'd be the first in our House to take a servant."

"He is amazing." Prowl hesitated a moment, then asked, "Would you like to meet him?"

"Of course," Flashdrive grinned. "Let's see this mech you're so taken with."

Prowl nodded. "Let me comm him." ::Jazz? Would you come in? My carrier and brother would like to meet you.::

A sound rather like a squeak came back before Jazz answered with a quick "yes, master" and entered the library hurriedly while maintaining his innate grace. He bowed deeply to Prowl, much as he would outside Prowl's suite.

::Relax. They expect as much formality as I do,:: Prowl commented over the comm, meaning less in private. "Jazz," he spoke out loud, reaching out to convince the minibot to come in close to his side. "This is Lord Zephra, my carrier, and Lord Flashdrive, my immediate older brother. Carrier, Flashdrive, this is Jazz."

"You _are_ a pretty little thing," Flashdrive rumbled his approval. "I tell you brother, if you do manage to catch this one, keep him close. He'll have all sorts of courtiers."

Jazz smiled and ducked his head slightly, but Prowl could feel Jazz's pleasure at the complement. "Regretfully I will not be able to meet you in person."

"Yes, pretty," Zephra hummed. "Perhaps I will need to arrange a short visit to my youngest adult creation on his first assignment out of Praxus. Tell me Jazz, what do you think of my creation's intentions?"

Jazz's field muted, pulling close and uneasy as he sat in Prowl's lap. "Lord Zephra, he has been wonderful to me and I do hope he has this post until my time comes. What he intends simply doesn't happen. Lord Blastoff doesn't sell my kind. Not until we're within a couple vorns of the end."

Prowl rubbed Jazz's back soothingly. Softly, he stated, "I wish to look into the legalities to try to convince him to sell you before then."

A low hum and Jazz leaned into his master, his lover, resting his helm on Prowl's chest. "I hope you find something none of us know. There is very little slave-law that slaves don't know."

"Which is why I would like for you to help me look into it." Prowl nuzzled Jazz's helm briefly, his optics full of affection for the smaller mech.

"Everything I know is yours," Jazz agreed without hesitation. "There are always loopholes, even if they're hard to use."

"Aren't they adorable?" Flashdrive whispered to his carrier.

"Yes, I must admit they appear to be an excellent love-match," he murmured, watching his third creation interact with this silver slave.

Prowl raised an optic ridge at his kin. "What is it you are discussing?"

"You and Jazz," Flashdrive chuckled. "You're adorable together. He just looks so _perfect_ snuggled on your lap like that. And bro; I _want_ those vids."

"He _feels_ just as perfect," Prowl purred, his hold tightening on Jazz briefly as his optics flashed teasingly. "And I am sorry, but it would be improper to share any such vids with you."

"How's that?" Flashdrive puffed out in honest surprise and faked anger.

::We can give him a show now,:: Jazz commed Prowl as he stretched to lick Prowl's neck.

"One should not let uninvolved others see you interface," Prowl teased with one of the Praxian rules of etiquette. ::If it were just Flashdrive, I wouldn't mind,:: he replied to Jazz, though he did tickle at Jazz's waist.

"Then I guess I'll just have to invite myself for a visit to renew my involvement with you," Flashdrive grinned playfully, though he did mean it. Especially when he saw Jazz shiver in excitement.

"Oh Primus, both of you at once?" Jazz couldn't hold back the moan as he clung to Prowl. "Yes, please."

"And break the spark of whomever your current lover is?" Prowl replied in kind.

"I know he won't mind as long as he gets all the details," Flashdrive winked. "Or he can come."

"Now _that_ just might be worth having you visit," Prowl flicked his wings teasingly as he tried to ignore the quickly intensifying desire of the mech squirming in his lap. "You've been keeping this one a secret for too long. And Jazz does enjoy an audience."

"I do," Jazz purred in agreement.

"Mmm, I believe we should end this call and leave you to Jazz's tender mercy," Zyphra chuckled and reached forward to cut the connection. "Have a good orn, Prowl. We'll speak again soon."

"Send my love to the rest of the family." Prowl nodded and shut off the connection at his end once his carrier had signed off. He then turned his attention to the aroused lover on his lap, kissing Jazz thoroughly.

* * *

Half a world away, Prowl's carrier and brother looked at each other across the dark holo-comm station.

"Well, that wasn't what I was expecting," Flashdrive admitted. "Prowl ... falling for someone he _really_ shouldn't have."

"I know," Zyphra murmured as he settled with his elbows on the table, chin on outstretched thumbs and fingers clicking in front of his nose. "I thought he would be better prepared to see a mech doing their function than he seems to be."

Flashdrive frowned. He knew Prowl was smart enough to be able to tell. "So is that what your mechs have heard? That Jazz is only doing his job?"

"That he's not treating Prowl any different than he treats the other VIPs he's assigned to, yes," Zyphra nodded. "They do not believe he's trying to take advantage of Prowl, not directly, but what slave _wouldn't_ want to be freed? If Prowl is offering, Jazz would have to be crazy to turn him down. While many things are said of the mech, that type of crazy isn't one of them."

"Is there any word if he cares for Jazz?" Flashdrive asked. "I would think Prowl would be upset if he went through all of what he's planning for a mech he loves, but doesn't care about him in return."

The grim expression on the carrier's face was all the answer that really needed to be given. "If his prayers to Primus in the garden there are any indication, he's very much in love. Fortunately, he's also quite aware of Jazz's status and the slave code. As difficult as it is to believe, from my understanding, Jazz could despise Prowl and that little show we got would be the same."

"Yes, but Prowl would insist on finding out if Jazz really wanted him before sharing a berth with him." The second creation pointed out. "I'm sure he figured out some way to get around the slave code in that respect."

"There are ways," Zyphra nodded. "Primarily involved in using it to ensure the truth is said or by hardline and watching what coding is in charge. Slave code is not subtle in the least."

"What do you want to do? I _do_ want to visit him sometime soon." Flashdrive regarded his carrier seriously.

"I intend to visit," he x-vented slightly. "As distasteful as it is to do, I know what slave code looks like. I can hardline and tell what's really going on inside Jazz's processors. Better to break any bad news to Prowl now, before it gets further. I need to teach him about the coding if he doesn't already know. You are welcome to come, with or without your lovers."

Flashdrive did a double-take at his creator's use of the plural. "How...?"

A soft chuckle greeted his surprise. "I'm your carrier. It's part of the function to notice such things. I will give you credit, I had to put a palace Intel agent on it to find them. You're quite skilled at avoiding detection when you put your processor to it."

Flashdrive squirmed a bit, looking sheepish. "I thought you and Sire would not approve."

"I can't say I approve," Zyphra regarded him sternly. "But I do not _disapprove_ either. I hope you find one of your own caste and class agreeable, but if you are happy with your artist and merchant, we will not stand in the way of it."

"They make me very happy, Carrier," he replied softly. "I'll see if they can come to Protihex with us, so you can meet them."

"Thank you," he smiled gently in return and reached out for Flashdrive. "You will always be our second creation. Just ... _try_ to convince your merchant to stay off the black market. He has a respectable enough function and it needs to remain that way if you court him."

Flashdrive took Zephra's hand, moving in close to rest his forehead against his carrier's affectionately. "I will pass on the message. Thank you."

"You are welcome," he smiled and relaxed into the affectionate contact.


	8. Praxus Comes Calling

Prowl sighed in frustration as he and Jazz dissected the slave laws, both official and unofficial. Every loophole either could think of involved either subterfuge or blackmail, both of which would harm Prowl's future and Praxus' alliance with Protihex.

Still, it was difficult to remain too irritated with Jazz snuggled on his lap, helping him go over the laws and generally being his affectionate self.

He deliberately released his tension and placed a kiss on Jazz's helm. "We'll figure someway out," he promised softly, giving the minibot a comforting squeeze. "My carrier is very good at plotting political strategies. And speaking of..." his wings twitched. "I'm sure you noticed from the conversation with him. He is not comfortable with overt displays of interfacing, even from family members in private."

"I'll behave," Jazz promised. "Even if it means dragging you away for a couple breems in private."

Prowl chuckled, placing another kiss on his helm. "That won't be objected to. In Praxus, it is only the actual act that is discouraged in public situations. Whether the definition of 'public' includes family members depends on the family, and individuals within the family. My carrier is one who considers even family gatherings to be public enough for the etiquette to count."

Jazz nodded seriously. "So it's okay for me to be here and snuggle, kiss, but much more is for another room?"

"Yes." Prowl nodded. "Though it really only applies to my carrier. Flashdrive would appreciate the show, and I am not uncomfortable around him."

"I'll keep that in mind," Jazz purred, his engine revving softly as he moved in for another kiss. "Do we have time before they arrive?"

"We should have just enough time to take care of you," Prowl purred, perfectly fine with the idea of watching Jazz overload instead of overloading himself. One hand slid down Jazz's hips to tease wires in the joints.

A low, pleased hum vibrated from Jazz as he shifted to face Prowl fully, spread his legs to straddle his lover's and slid his valve cover open. Prowl's spike cover retracted and his spike was quickly extended. His hands on Jazz's hips helped guide the smaller mech onto him, groaning as he was surrounded by welcoming heat. "So very good..." As if he could read Jazz's thoughts, his chest plates unlocked.

"Yes," Jazz shivered and moaned as he tightened and loosened his valve around the spike sliding in and out. "So good, so beautiful," he murmured as he reached forward to gently play his fingers along the complex crystal sphere that contained Prowl's very essence.

Prowl groaned in pure pleasure and sped up, both guiding Jazz's hips with his hands and thrusting up into him as much as he was able. "Jazz..."

* * *

"Isn't it a little mean to show up nearly half a joor early?" Flashdrive asked his carrier quietly as a local servant, a Praxian by look and accent, guided them into the Praxian Ambassador's Palace.

"I _do_ want to catch them at least slightly off guard," he explained. "Just to see how they react."

Another servant hurried towards them and whispered to the one guiding them. That mech then turned to them with a polite bow.

"I am sorry, my Lords, but Lord Prowl is occupied at the moment. Would you prefer to wait in the garden for him?"

Flashdrive didn't say anything, but raised an optic ridge at his carrier. He could easily guess what his younger brother was 'occupied' with.

"How long will he be occupied?" the elder mech said with a faint inflection of annoyance.

"Two breems at most, my Lord," the servant answered without hesitation. "Lord Prowl is never late for an appointment."

"Very well. Energon in the garden is acceptable," Zyphra decided and followed the servant to the garden and a beautiful sitting area there.

"Confections and energon will arrive shortly, My Lords," the servant bowed before slipping away.

"Want to bet he and Jazz were having a quick overload before we arrived?" Flashdrive asked after the servant had gone.

"If Jazz is indeed an immature breeder, not to do so is almost cruel," Zyphra said quietly. "I'm sure Jazz is doing all he can to test Prowl's endurance and skill simply by being honest."

He nodded solemnly, then snickered. "I'm sure Prowl isn't complaining."

"Unlikely," he suppressed a low chuckle to a small smile as a servant arrived with a fine selection of energon confections and a carved crystal decanter of silver-flake energon with four cubes. He nodded his thanks to the servant as the gray and blue mech bowed and left. "I have little doubt they are enjoying their time together a great deal."

"And if there's anyone who can keep up with an immature breeder, it's Prowl." Flashdrive snickered, relaxing as they waited.

Soon enough Prowl arrived with Jazz at his side. If he was a bit flustered that his family had arrived early, he was hiding it well. He couldn't hide the half-cleaned up silver scuff marks on his hips however.

Jazz, true to form for one of _much_ lower rank than the others kept close to Prowl's side and his optics down. He complied easily with Prowl's silent directions to sit and accepted the cube of energon without a fuss, only to use it to sneak a few glances at Prowl's guests.

Prowl ignored his brother's pointed smirk with practiced ease. "Welcome to Protihex. I hope you enjoy your stay," he intoned formally before giving them a smile. "It is good to see both of you again. I have missed you."

"We have missed you as well," Zyphra smiled. "It seems that this assignment is agreeable with you."

"Or at least the perks," Flashdrive teased, making Jazz giggle.

"While no occupation is perfect, my assignment here has been good overall. There is one perk I am quite grateful to have." Prowl smiled and laid a hand on Jazz's arm, leaving little doubt exactly what perk he was referring to. The silver mech purred softly and leaned into the touch.

"He is an adorable one," Flashdrive smiled at the interaction. Yes, very much like young lovers, yet they had not even met outside of work. It left him uneasy.

"Indeed," Zyphra agreed, then focused on Jazz. "Prowl tells me you are a breeder. How old are you?"

"Three hundred and fifty-two, my Lord," Jazz responded on reflex.

Prowl stayed quiet, letting his carrier take charge of the conversation. He remained touching Jazz, offering a form of reassurance that was eagerly accepted. There was no doubt that Jazz wasn't nearly as convinced that Prowl's kin were as safe as Prowl.

"Who has tried to buy you, that you are so sure you will never be sold?"

"Lord Shockwave of Hive City and Lord Straxus of Kaon have both tried," Jazz said quietly.

Flashdrive made an impressed noise. "And Lord Blastoff turned _them_ down?"

"Yes," Jazz nodded. "I was in the room when it happened. I don't _understand_ , but I'm grateful given what they wanted my or my creations for."

Prowl shuddered, wrapping an arm around Jazz. "I am grateful they didn't get you either, even if it makes getting you now harder."

"Not harder," Jazz shook his head. "It was just proof of how intent Lord Blastoff has always been on keeping me. No breeder with much time left has been sold since Lord Temperance's time. That one was kind of a special case. The Lord Prime sired her. You can't say no when the Lord Prime wants their creation."

"What else is it that you do, Jazz?" Zyphra asked.

"I sing, dance and entertain well," Jazz smiled shyly at him. "I can speak sixteen dialects as a native, compose and perform music in most styles, manage the staff, finances and upkeep of a city the size of Protihex. I have the equivalent of a degree in geo-politics, history, programming and sparkling design and care. I'm a good at social networking as well."

Flashdrive gave a surprised noise and even Zephra looked impressed. "That is quite a bit, to say the least," the elder Praxian stated. "How did you manage it all?"

"A lot of free time, good energon, a very fast processor and a spark with power to spare," Jazz gave a small smile. "I've slowed down a lot since my mechling upgrades, but I still enjoy learning just about everything."

Prowl nudged him and earned a sheepish look before Jazz reached out to pick up a confection.

None of the Praxians missed that he kept glancing at Zephra, half expecting a reprimand that did not come. Instead, the eldest Praxian gave him a small smile. "A strong desire to learn and continue learning speaks well for you. What about my creation draws you?"

"He..." Jazz paused, uneasy even as he leaned against Prowl a little more firmly. "Prowl treats me as more of an equal than my own caste," he answered before nibbling on the confection that was a treat even for him.

Prowl held him closer, shifting so that Jazz could move onto his lap if the minibot wanted. It was an invitation that Jazz accepted, curling against his master with a low sound of contentment.

Zyphra's expression softened at the admission. "I would expect no less from him, or any of my family, Jazz."

"How do you keep order, if everyone is treated as a equal?" Jazz asked, made a little bolder by Prowl's closeness and the acceptance he'd gotten so far.

"A builder designed for manual labor does not generally have the processor capacity to tackle politics or sciences. However, a politician or scientist would not be able to do their work without the builder to create the buildings they live and work in. We all have our roles that we specialize in and we all need others to do what we cannot. As such, all are deserving of respect." Zyphra explained.

"Respect does not equate to equality," Jazz said carefully. "Equality does not equate to respect."

"Not their definitions. However, they tend to be highly correlated when it comes to social situations. The greater the difference in equality, the more the different social strata are inclined to disrespect those who are not the same as them."

"True," Jazz eventually decided, though he was struggling with the social construction so completely at odds to his own, or even an historical president. "How common is this system in Praxus?"

"It is harder to put into practice. There will never be true, full equality, not as long as certain functions are valued more than others, and some require more specialization than others. The idea of respect is more common in Praxus than most other city-states, but it is still nowhere near the level I would like to see." Zyphra sighed with regret.

Prowl felt Jazz relax slightly, put more at ease than he should have been in the Praxian's opinion. But then, equality with a Lord was not an easy thing for a slave to grasp, even when ordered to. He knew that as much as he disliked it, he was still 'Lord and master' to Jazz. That hurt more than it should too, given the silver mech was doing his absolute best to comply with Prowl's wish to be his equal.

Flashdrive listened and watched with sharp, critical golden optics before leaning forward to snag a confection and munch on it. "So let's just go on spec for a breem. If Prowl did manage to buy you, you know he'd free you."

Jazz's twitch of surprise warned all of them that no such thought had actually occurred to the silver mech.

Prowl hugged him and asked quietly, "You did not realize?"

"I didn't _think_ about it much," Jazz said first. "No, it never really occurred to me."

Prowl held Jazz close, resting his helm against the silver mech's, trembling.

::Prowl?:: Jazz commed him, concern bordering on panic.

::I am alright, Jazz.:: He commed back reassuringly. ::Apparently I find the idea that you didn't even think of me freeing you as surprising as you found the idea of me freeing you.::

::Oh,:: Jazz murmured. ::I'm sorry. I really gave the entire thought that you'd successfully buy me maybe fifteen nanokliks. Those fantasies were well quashed by the time I upgraded to a youngling.::

Instead of replying, Prowl gave Jazz a tender, chaste kiss that Jazz almost immediately tried to take to the next level with a hum and lick of his glossa against Prowl's lip plates. Prowl gave his lower lip a nip and murmured, "Later," his voice full of promise enough to cause Jazz to shiver in anticipation.

Zyphra made a polite noise to gather the lovers' attention. "I take it that you also had not given thought to what you would do if freed, then."

"No, Lord Zyphra," Jazz responded with a suppressed moan at pushing down his desires for the moment. "It's not a subject breeders discuss. We know it's not going to happen."

Flashdrive looked thoughtful, leaning forward. "Would you want to be freed?"

Prowl stiffened and stared at his older brother in shock and no small amount of horror.

Jazz went still, his gaze going down and frame going mostly lax as he processed the question, sent it through lightning quick, highly adaptable processors. Every line of inquiry came back with the same two responses: too little information and very low probability of survival.

The lithe silver mech shivered. "Based on what I know, I'd rather be what and where I am than free."

Flashdrive tilted his head curiously, even as Prowl's horror grew at the thought. "And what information is that?" the elder sibling asked calmly.

"Very little," Jazz admitted. "The few slaves that buy themselves or are freed are on their own. They're free. No one cares for them anymore. No one's responsible for them. My likely prospects? A pleasurebot on the streets."

"I would _never_ leave you to fend for yourself," Prowl whispered vehemently, hugging Jazz tightly. "Even if you didn't wish to stay with me, I'd make sure you had a decent job and place to live."

Jazz looked up, not making any comment on the stress to his systems Prowl's slightly too-tight embrace was causing. "Why wouldn't I stay with you, if you let me?"

"It is a potentiality that I must be prepared for, even if it is one that seems unlikely now," Prowl admitted. ::Being free would mean that _you_ could chose who would sire your sparklings, how many and when you would have, and that you would get to keep and raise them,:: Prowl said to Jazz over private comm.

Somewhere between confusion, wonder and fear, Jazz didn't find any words to reply with.

"Bro, I think it might be best if you explain things to him like we would a newly sparked," Flashdrive suggested as their carrier contemplated the situation and the mechs in the middle of it. "It's already clear Jazz has no clue how we do things and his baseline is not a good thing to go with."

Jazz looked between the brothers, then looked up at Prowl. "Why so much distress over the impossible? Your kin are here, you should enjoy the time, not ... _this_."

"He has a good point," Zyphra finally decided to speak up again. "There are better subjects to discuss than the currently impossible. Like finally meeting your older brother's lovers."

Prowl let his distress bleed out as he accepted his creator's suggestion, however, the plural on that last word had him straightening in surprise. "Lovers? As in more than one? I thought you were only with one!" He looked to his older brother for explanation.

"Carrier!" Flashdrive groaned. "I was going to surprise him with that when they arrived for dinner."

"He'll still be surprised," Zyphra chuckled, noting that Jazz had relaxed right along with her younger creation and was now stroking Prowl's chest seam with a bit more intimacy that he really cared to watch, even if there was nothing technically wrong with the public display of affection. Given the situation, he wasn't going to bring it up.

"What are their designations?" Prowl purred.

"Sideswipe and Sunstreaker," Flashdrive replied.

"And where has he been hiding them?" Prowl asked their carrier.

"He hasn't been hiding them," Zyphra chuckled, noting that Jazz's fingers were becoming just a bit more insistent and enough to cause Prowl's wings to twitch. "He's been hiding himself when he visits them. They are quite the ... interesting pair."

"In what way?" Prowl asked even though he wasn't about to let go of Jazz.

"They really must be met to be believed," Zyphra teased his younger creation. "Though I will say they are a very attractive pair. One is quite a talented artist."

"From what city?" Jazz perked up as things moved back into what he knew.

"Yes, please inform us." The corner of Prowl's mouth twitched in amusement at his brother's expense.

The elder creation vented deeply. "They were sparked in Iacon, raised in Crystal City and Praxus, where they live now."

"One is an artist... And the other?" Prowl raised an optic ridge. One hand glided down Jazz's back lightly.

"A merchant," Flashdrive answered, surrendering to the new subject. "Primarily his brother's artwork."

Jazz twitched, his processor chasing a thought around that arousal was disrupting his ability to follow.

"How well are they doing?" Prowl would not judge either way at this point, but it was good to know that sort of information. ::Do you need to take a break for an overload?:: He asked Jazz.

::Soon,:: Jazz admitted. ::I can find my own. You haven't seen your kin in a vorn.::

"Fairly successful," Flashdrive said, ignoring the amused look of his carrier. "All right, better than that. I met them at a single-artist gallery gala in Iacon."

"Twins?" Jazz suddenly asked.

Prowl waited with a raised optic ridge for his brother to answer Jazz. ::If that is your choice. Let me know when you want up.::

A small nod was all the answer Flashdrive gave. "You really are ruining _all_ the fun of this," he grumbled.

Jazz just snickered and snuggled against Prowl. "Not a chance. They'll bring their own shocks no matter how much you tell."

"Anything about them I should be aware of?" Prowl asked the mech on his lap.

"Sunstreaker is probably _the_ premiere non-commissioned artist currently functioning. His work is in the Prime's palace and almost every palace and Tower worth the title. Your favorite statue, that little one of Prima in the garden center, is by Sunstreaker. His brother is a brilliant merchant by all accounts, and for more than just art. For the right price, word is he can get anything you want. Socially, Sunstreaker is more self-centric than acceptable, but almost no one talks to him for his personality. Sideswipe's quite the player."

Prowl hummed as he took in and processed that information. "Any other pieces around here from them?"

"The mural behind Lord Blastoff in the main dinning hall of his lineage," Jazz said as he ran through the art inventory of various palaces in his processors. "The statues of the Thirteen in the Royal Fountain. Half a dozen small paintings in private rooms among the palaces you haven't seen."

Prowl nodded again, his hand running along Jazz's back idly, and turned his attention back to his brother. "And you are serious about them?"

"Pretty serious," he nodded with a sideways glance at their carrier before focusing on Prowl and the twitching, slightly squirming minibot in his lap. "They aren't anywhere near ready to settle down, but they're worth waiting for."

"Are they aware how serious you are about them?" Prowl asked, worried that they would break his brother's spark.

"As much as they can process," he nodded.

"They're young," Jazz spoke up, shifting to try and settle his systems. "A different kind of young than I am. The kind that probably won't grow up, not completely."

"They're good mechs, but yes, they are ... immature, sometimes," Flashdrive admitted.

"That would explain some of the behaviors you two have mentioned. Is there a known reason for it?" ::You seem to be getting more uncomfortable. Do you need to go find someone?:: Prowl asked Jazz again.

Jazz ducked his head. ::I ... should,:: he admitted, reluctant to leave the warmth of Prowl's embrace.

"Individual variance," Flashdrive shrugged. "They're both mature enough to be very successful at their functions. Sideswipe's just unusually playful."

Prowl nodded to his brother then turned his attention to Jazz, rubbing his back. ::You know where we will be. You should not neglect yourself.:: He nuzzled Jazz's helm and urged him to get up.

With a twist to claim a fiercely possessive kiss that left Prowl's fans on high, Jazz slipped away in a hurry.

"Where is he going?" Zyphra asked mildly.

"He is in need of an overload or two, and did not wish to take me away from the two of you," Prowl replied, slowly recovering from Jazz's parting kiss.

"I'm surprised you agreed," Flashdrive said with honesty, his own fans up a notch just from watching the kiss. "I sure wouldn't be letting _that_ out of my grasp if he was mine."

"I do not often," Prowl admitted. "He seeks out others far less with me than has had to with previous ambassadors, at least according to him. However, it does provide us a chance to discuss topics that make him uncomfortable."

"Yes, he is clearly not ready to be part of the discussion about his freedom," Zyphra agreed. "He may not be for some vorns yet."

"At least he has the vorns," Flashdrive added. "Both from the perspective of Prowl's stay and Jazz's age. It shouldn't be a significant issue until he's very close to five hundred. But what's this information you have that you didn't want to risk on an encrypted noble line?"

"It involves Jazz, and he does not want to know it." Prowl vented deeply. "I saw something in his spark codes the first time we interfaced with our systems synced. I did research afterwards on what I saw, and there was only one plausible conclusion. Blastoff is his sire," He said softly, looking uncomfortable.

"He made his own creation a breeder?" Zyphra looked rather gray.

"He doesn't even have a bonded yet, or any acknowledged heirs either," Flashdrive looked just as shocked.

Prowl nodded. "I was equally disturbed once I figured it out."

"The new noble kin law makes what he is doing to Jazz illegal by Prime's decree and Senate proclamation," Zyphra mused as the information settled in his processor. "You could make it very uncomfortable for Lord Blastoff if that information reached the wrong mechs."

"Might explain why he's so determined not to sell him though," Flashdrive pointed out. "It's much less likely to get out if he keeps him close."

"Though allowing Jazz to interface with foreign ambassadors is also a risk," Prowl pointed out. "It is how I figured it out. He has the royal code. He is also unaware of it. I knew he did not know his sire's identity. After I realized who it was, we had a discussion on whether or not he wanted to know who his sire was. His choice at the time was to remain unaware, and he has not changed his processor on it since. I am doing all I can to respect that."

"Did he say why he didn't want to know?" Zyphra asked, his voice gentle as he tried to ignore the pleasured cry of a Praxian not nearly far enough away not to be heard.

"The knowledge would make no difference in his status as a slave, but would bring him a lot of emotional pain. I also pointed out to him that he could always learn at a later date, but if he learned it at the time, he could not _un_ learn it." Prowl explained.

"Not technically true, but close enough," Flashdrive hummed, his sensor wings twitching and flexing and flared in distress.

Zyphra nodded. "He is not only intelligent and well-educated, but well aware of his own needs. Or is the distress something slave code would cause?"

"The slave coding does all it can to prevent and soothe distress, not cause it. Any anguish would be his own breaking through the slave coding. Even the idea that I had figured out who his sire was based on Jazz's own coding caused a great deal of distress to come through, that his slave coding ended up suppressing."

"So that's why Protihex has so little trouble with its slave population," Flashdrive mused, his focus being diverted as Jazz's voice joined his current lover's in echoing through the garden. "That and very little support of arena fighting. Happy people don't cause riots. Effective, if illegal outside of slave populations."

"How does Jazz view the slave code and its control of him, if he's been at all able to express it?" Zyphra asked gently.

"I believe he likes it," Prowl replied softly, looking down. "He is relieved when the programming suppresses negative emotions. He is a mech who tends to be in a good mood, and the programming encourages that."

"True, though he is also a very intelligent and educated mech who could well resent something controlling him," Zyphra said. "That he seems to enjoy what the code does will make your task in convincing him being a free mech is something he should desire more difficult."

"What has upset him enough to speak out?" Flashdrive asked, keenly interested in knowing how well his brother knew his lover.

"As I mentioned just now, even discussing finding out who his sire was brought out a great deal of anger," Prowl replied. He thought for a moment, and then continued. "He also feels grief for every spark he has kindled that he has been forced to lose. That one was hard to get out, and even then he could only show me indirectly over hardline. The coding works very hard to suppress that one. And then when we were discussing freeing him earlier, that was making him very uncomfortable. Even, afraid, I would say."

"Definitely afraid," Zyphra agreed with a flick of his wings. "Though I would say the fear is founded in a lack of understanding of your intentions rather than of freedom itself." He cringed slightly as the duel keens of a shared overload swept through them. "He does seem to have a good existence, when compared to the poor mechs he has likely encountered."

"Just how often does he need that?" Flashdrive jerked his chin towards the fading sounds of pleasure. "We've only been here a couple joors."

"Often," Prowl admitted. "When he onlines at the beginning of the orn, at the very least two or three times during the orn, and a very long session to hopefully wear him out enough that he can recharge comfortably. More often is preferable for him. He is constantly in a state of low-level arousal, and that is uncomfortable. Overload provides the only relief, and that is usually not for long." The youngest of the Praxians twitched and resettled his wings. "Do you know how they _make_ breeders?"

"Only that it was outlawed in most non-slave states long before slavery was banned," Zyphra admitted. "I believe it's fairly high risk for the slave and they don't survive long."

"Jazz _should_ be perhaps one size class smaller than Lord Blastoff himself." Prowl shuddered. "During upgrades, once a protoform has added all the mass it will, they artificially remove much of it, leaving the mech with a disproportionably large spark. It is why he has such a high interface drive. It also makes him _much_ more fertile."

Flashdrive shuddered. "Is that why they have such short lives? The excess energy burns them out?"

"No," Prowl shook his head. "The reason is worse than that. They are bred at regularly scheduled intervals. There is a set recovery time, but it is not long. It is the sheer number of sparklings they are forced to carry one after another that shortens their lives."

Zyphra looked decidedly queasy. "How many in how long?"

"There is only about a metacycle between sparklings. If a breeder has an expected mature existance of five hundred vorns, then they will usually have roughly six hundred sparklings." Prowl's wings drooped, his face full of grief.

"Holy...." Flashdrive gasped, too shocked to even notice the racing speeder that zoomed in low over them. "No wonder it's still done, but Primus...."

Zyphra only shuddered, his processors flashing back to when he was carrying. As joyful as it was, as proud as he'd been each time, it wasn't the most comfortable state to be in and he was vorns before he'd been ready to try again.

Prowl started to nod, but suddenly twitched and turned, wings rising high in alarm as the speeder went by. "What the-?"

His brother groaned. "Relax, it's just my guests."

"So we will finally get to meet them?" Prowl slowly smiled as the tension from the previous topic drained from him.

"If they aren't completely distracted by your Jazz first," Flashdrive chuckled weakly as all three made the effort to remove the distress from their systems. "From that flip, I'd say they spotted him."

"He would not protest if they wanted to. His opinion leans toward 'the more, the better'." Prowl chuckled softly, affection for the silver mech clear in his voice.

"Why don't you go find your wayward lovers," Zyphra vented in amused exasperation for his creations. "I will remain here until everyone has settled."

"Thank you, Carrier." Prowl rose swiftly, hugging Zyphra.

"Will do," Flashdrive chuckled and followed his brother through the gardens in the direction Jazz had gone. It didn't take long for them to hear the sounds of very energetic interfacing even over the racer's engines as it settled down.

"Can you keep up with him when we aren't interrupting you?" Flashdrive asked.

"Yes, though I deliberately don't overload every time he does," Prowl replied honestly, the sounds of Jazz's pleasure revving his engine.

Flashdrive hummed and reached forward to stroke his brother's sensor wings, adding a bit of physical pleasure to the audio feast they were listening too. "Do you think you'd enjoy being between your pretty little mech and me?"

The younger brother shuddered, his wings pressing into the touch. "That does sound like a good suggestion. What about your lovers?"

"I'm sure one will want my valve, and Sideswipe's mouth is utterly divine," he purred, his engine revving hard against Prowl's back. "I'm sure Jazz will appreciate the attention."

"Mmm..." Prowl's engine revved again. "Let us find them and see what they are doing before we decide on plans."

"I'm sure they're watching," Flashdrive chuckled as he listened to the pleasure, picking out the sounds of his twins working each other up before they turned the corner to a visual feast of gold and red plating pressing close while they watched a smaller convoy class mech drive someone into the crystal dust of the path.

Prowl allowed his hand to tease along the seam in his brother's side as they watched both sets of mechs.

"Or maybe I'll just ravage you while we watch my twins work your Jazz over when that guy's done," Flashdrive pressed close, revved his engine against Prowl's wing sensor suite as his hands worked Prowl's chest seam.

Prowl shuddered and leaned back into him. "That is agreeable." His hands reached back, expertly digging into hip joints. His brother moaned, drawing the twin's attention.

"Now that's something I didn't think we'd ever get to _see_ ," a low, sultry and very turned on voice rumbled as exquisitely crafted golden and black faceplates with gorgeous upswept golden head fins turned towards the Praxians. "I must get them to pose for me."

"Sunstreaker and Sideswipe?" Prowl asked, attempting formality even as his brother's attentions drew a whimper of pleasure from him.

"Yes, but don't worry about that," Sideswipe purred. "You're inspiring the artist."

"L-Lord Prowl?" a deep voice rumbled with a definite tremor of fear.

"He knew, but if you're stopping I'll play with the Praxians," Jazz sounded decidedly annoyed.

"It is alright," Prowl reassured the mech whose designation he didn't know. "Please feel free to finish with Jazz." Before he could continue, Flashdrive's hands did _something_ and Prowl's helm lolled onto his brother's shoulder with a moan.

"Thrust," Jazz growled, his tone one of pure demand. A voice Prowl had never heard from him before. A voice that dragged a sharp rev from Prowl's engine at the realization that Jazz could be a very forceful personality when he wished to display it.

"I might have to stay even longer than I planned, just to watch him work you over a few times," Flashdrive purred in Prowl's audio. "You are such an adorable couple. I'm glad he's not the jealous type. I'd hate to give you up for good."

"He has too many lovers to get jealous," Prowl murmured, then groaned as a wire was tweaked. His optics were locked on the pair on the ground as Jazz's lover did as bid, pounding into the minibot beneath him once more.

"Definitely a good show," Sideswipe commented as he nuzzled his brother's helm, hands moving knowingly over perfectly polished golden armor.

"Yes," Sunstreaker's optics were locked on the Praxians, his frame heating up in response but he didn't notice. He was far too fixated on recording every detail he possibly could. "They're lovely together."

Neither Praxian was very worried about their audience anymore. Not when Flashdrive's fingers slid down Prowl's chassis to stroke Prowl's valve cover.

"I bet you don't get much, if I'm reading Jazz right," Flashdrive cooed.

"Not as much," Prowl allowed, the cover sliding open. He groaned as his brother sank a finger in him, and ground his aft against the other's interface cover.

"You won't be lacking while I'm here," Flashdrive promised with a deep moan as he let his spike slide free. "On your knees, bro. I know you want to watch."

Prowl sank down at his command with a noise of anticipation, watching for the little glimpses of silver as Jazz was ravaged. The silver mech was making up for the lack of visuals with sound, eager and wanton, until he keened his release sharply in the same moment that Flashdrive pushed into Prowl with a long, smooth stroke.

Prowl's cry joined Jazz's, his back arching into his brother's skilled hands. His optics refocused a moment later to Jazz stood and walked towards him, only to be caught in Sideswipe's glossy red and black arms.

"Why don't we put on a show for our lovers instead?" Sideswipe purred, just loud enough for the Praxians to hear.

Jazz visor flashed brightly and he grinned up at the mech holding him. "He does enjoy a good show," he ran his hands up Sideswipe's chest. "Think you can both take me at once?"

"Oh, I know we can," Sideswipe smirked before claiming his mouth in a searing kiss. His hands drifted down before he hauled Jazz up by his aft.

"Good," the minibot moaned in anticipation, spreading his legs to wrap around Sideswipe's hips, his valve still bared and dripping lubricant and transfluid. "Been too long since I've been that full."

"Now that's a shame." Sideswipe nipped at Jazz's helm, his interface cover opening and his spike pressurizing to rub against Jazz's entrance.

"Yes," Jazz hissed, his slender claws digging into Sideswipe's armor as he squirmed, trying to get the mech to sink into him.

"You're tormenting the poor thing," Sunstreaker chided his twin as he stepped close, encasing Jazz between their larger frames.

"As if you wouldn't." Sideswipe gave in and sank into the welcoming heat with a groan. "So good... Be even better with you as well."

"Just letting you get settled," Sunstreaker chuckled, playing his finely crafted hands over Jazz's trembling frame.

"Less talking, more thrusting," Jazz actually growled at them, prompting Sunstreaker to laugh.

"Feisty, demanding little thing, isn't he?" The golden mech snickered.

"Mmm, it's a good attitude on him. Now c'mon. I'm not gonna start without you." Sideswipe reached around with one arm to try to release Sunstreaker's spike.

Sunstreaker batted the hand away with a chuckle and released it himself. "Pushy, pushy," he chuckled again when Jazz growled at him, only to moan when Sideswipe thrust in deep.

"Your mech's in for a real treat," Flashdrive purred in Prowl's audio, both their optics riveted on the threesome as Sunstreaker pressed his spike against Sideswipe's, then up into Jazz's slick valve with a groan.

Prowl moaned, squeezing his valve around the thrusting spike in it. "He's so good in pleasure..."

"That's better," Sideswipe groaned and thrust again, in time with his twin. "So tight, so wet..."

"So _hot_ ," Sunstreaker moaned, shuddering at the intensity of the charge still running rampant in Jazz's systems even after the overload they'd witnessed. "If we ... didn't already ... have such a ... catch ... I'd want to ... keep this one."

"Not sure... if we'd be... able to," Sideswipe grunted as he continued to thrust into the minibot that was all but a melted puddle of pleased goo between them. "But... still so good..."

"Oh yeah," Sunstreaker shuddered, refusing to allow his overload to go critical before Jazz did at least once, if not twice.

"C'mon, c'mon," Sideswipe managed to get out, thrusting harder into the dripping, _tight_ valve.

"Just ... little more," Jazz panted, his fingers clinging to Sideswipe's chestplate as he arched back against Sunstreaker's. "So good."

The red twin groaned and pulled his brother into a kiss over Jazz's helm, his thrusting getting rougher until Jazz suddenly stiffened and keened, his overload crackling across his lithe frame and into the larger twins on either side.

Sunstreaker didn't hold back anymore, his roar exploding over Jazz's keen as he filled the tight space of Jazz's valve to overflowing with his transfluid. Sideswipe matched his brother's roar with one of his own, his transfluid continuing the flood.

Near them, Prowl cried out as he hit his own overload, refusing to let the three out of his sight even as Flashdrive pressed their sensor wings together to share the exquisite pleasure of a wing-overload driven by a regular one. Energy enveloped both sets of lovers, five overloads exploding across their sensor networks within a klik.

"That was amazing," Flashdrive panted in Prowl's audio, both their attentions on their lovers as Jazz began to beg for more.

"It was," Prowl gasped as their charge began to settle. "We do need to be getting back to Carrier..."

"Mmm, I suppose you could order him to calm down," Flashdrive suggested. "Maybe 'we need to get going or' or such."

"You distract your lovers too? Makes my job harder if they're encouraging him." Prowl carefully disentangled himself and stood up, closing his panel even though it did little to conceal what he'd been doing, or with whom.

"Sure," Flashdrive chuckled as he stood and tucked himself away. "That's enough," he called out cheerfully. "You can test your endurance against Jazz's later, when my carrier _isn't_ waiting."

"Awww, do we have to stop?" Sideswipe whined, pulling back slightly.

"Jazz, please join me over here. We can do more after dinner." Prowl requested, his optics on his sliver lover.

Jazz instantly perked up, all thoughts of interfacing pushed down at the thought of snuggling against his lover and master. His next squirm was to lift himself up, prepared to extract himself from between the twins even if they didn't agree.

"Hey, relax," Sunstreaker tried to still Jazz even as he shuddered from the sensations. "We'll let you go."

Sideswipe pouted slightly, obviously overruled, and pulled out of Jazz, tucking away his spike before taking the silver minibot's weight so that Sunstreaker could do the same. Before he let a much more cooperative Jazz down, each twin claimed a searing kiss from him that was returned with full fervor, and watched with amusement as Jazz scrambled to Prowl and half jumped up for a kiss from his lover.

"You've got a winner in that one, Prowl," Sunstreaker chuckled, a smirk on his handsome face. "Don't let him wonder far or you might not get him back."

Prowl lifted his lover up as he kissed him, holding him close. When he finally broke the kiss, he looked up at Sunstreaker. "I do not plan on letting him get away."

"I have no desire to run," Jazz purred and snuggled close, transferring some of the crystal powder from the trails to Prowl. "Though your carrier might appreciate if we all get a little cleaned up before joining him."

"Definitely." Prowl placed a kiss on Jazz's helm. "Washracks?"

"This way," Jazz nuzzled him before turning to lead the group inside.

Only Sideswipe caught Jazz making a gesture to a nearby mech that sent the mech hurrying off.

* * *

It had been harder than Prowl had expected, getting everyone out of the washrack clean. Between the leers of Flashdrive's twins, Flashdrive himself, and Jazz's insistence on making sure Prowl was flawless once more, he'd built up quite a charge. One that he'd surrendered to having dealt with by Jazz's talented mouth on his spike and his brother's too-knowing hands on his sensor wings.

It had happened though, and now everyone was clean, polished and on their best behavior as they joined Zyphra in the palace's clade dinning chamber.

Prowl greeted his Carrier formally, then glanced to his brother to indicate that it was Flashdrive's duty to introduce his lovers to Zyphra.

"Lord Zyphra, this is the artist Sunstreaker and merchant Sideswipe," Flashdrive managed to keep his nerves under control. "I would have them treated as clade while they are here."

The oldest Praxian smiled at his creation. "Granted. Welcome, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe. Sit with us and dine while you tell your stories."

"Thank you, Lord Zyphra," Sideswipe replied with an easy smile.

Prowl guided the group over to the table to be seated, making sure Jazz took a seat with them as well. The seat on Prowl's left, where his mate would be. It wasn't Jazz rank or right yet, but no one there was going to say a word against it. "How was your trip here? Uneventful, I hope."

"It was delightful. The view of the lands between cities is something I enjoy too rarely," Zyphra smiled at her younger creation.

"It is lovely," Prowl agreed with a small smile before turning towards the twins. "And yours?"

Sideswipe grinned. "We didn't spend as much time enjoying the view."

"Until you were about to land anyway," Flashdrive teased them. "You seemed quite taken by the view then."

Sideswipe smirked. "Of course. Can't pass up that sort of view. Sunstreaker finds it...inspirational."

"As if you don't," Sunstreaker snickered, watching closely as they were served. Not just the energon, but the servers as well. Sharp blue optics taking in every detail.

"Are you a merchant for goods other than your brother's creations?" Zyphra asked politely to detour the conversation.

"I also trade in precious materials and information, my lord," Sideswipe replied. He was as observant of those around them as his twin, though less obvious about it.

Prowl looked towards the quieter twin. "What medium do you prefer to use, Sunstreaker? Or do you not have a preference?"

"I haven't found a physical medium I can't perfect," Sunstreaker actually relaxed a notch, faintly preening that he was being focused on rather than his social brother. "I do prefer painting, though most commissions seem to be for sculpture."

"The works I have seen have all been excellent." Prowl smiled at him. "I do hope you find many inspirations during your stay here."

"I already have," Sunstreaker actually smiled at him. "You and Flashdrive are very attractive together. You set each other's colors and frames off perfectly."

Prowl's wings flared in surprised before fluttering slightly in embarrassment.

"Prowl is a very attractive mech," Jazz purred, emboldened by the relaxed manner of the others and a bit stronger energon than he was used to. "With a very attractive brother and carrier."

"Very true," Sideswipe toasted the minibot. "You and Prowl are adorable together, in a completely different way."

Prowl's wings fluttered more, much to his carrier's and brother's amusement. However, at Sideswipe's comment he reached over under the table and took Jazz's hand in his own, giving it a gentle squeeze and smiling at the purring and brilliant smile Jazz gave him in return.

"What drew you to my creation?" Zyphra asked, looking at the twins.

"He's fun," Sidewipe replied. "And not many can handle being close to Sunny here for long."

"Don't call me Sunny," Sunstreaker growled low at his brother.

"See what I mean?" Sideswipe snickered.

"I asked them first," Flashdrive admitted when his carrier hid a scowl from the commoners, focusing Zyphra's attention on him. "I know, Carrier. But do you really believe _either_ of them is intimidated by status or caste?"

Zyphra took in the twins for a long, tense moment.

Sideswipe's expression became serious. "We've had experience discouraging noble attention that wasn't wanted. If we didn't want to be spending time with him, this would've been over already."

The elder Praxian nodded, seemingly satisfied. "As I would expect of my creation. Do you understand my concern?"

"That someone from a lower caste would feel obligated to accept a noble's advances, whether they actually wanted them or not?" Sideswipe shrugged. "We've met some nobles who've felt that we should entertain them just because they asked. We don't give in to those sort."

A smile crossed Zyphra's features and he took a delicate sip of the rich energon. "Good. I raised my creations to be better than that and lead by example. Though I must admit none of the lovers at the table this orn are ones would have expected, I am pleased my creations are happy with their choices."

Prowl smiled softly at that, giving Jazz's hand another squeeze. "So Sire will be getting a positive report?" he asked teasingly.

"Yes," Zyphra smiled at his younger creation. "Though I must question how you get anything done with yours in residence," he teased in return.

"I have become more efficient at getting my work done." Prowl smirked playfully. "That way I can get it done around Jazz."

"And have time to spend with just Jazz," Jazz snickered after he finished a sweetened confection.

"Indeed," Zyphra smiled indulgently. "Perhaps you will visit Praxus sometime."

"I'd like to, but I doubt it will be permitted," Jazz smiled at her, though it was slightly strained. "I am assigned to Prowl, but I am still in service to Lord Blastoff."

"It is something we could wish for, even if it seems unlikely," Prowl replied softly, bringing up the hand he's holding to place a kiss on the fingers. He felt Jazz's suppressed shiver, desire flickering through his field and licking at Prowl's plating.

With a hesitant motion, Jazz offered a small confection to Prowl's lips.

Prowl's gaze locked with his lover's as he ate it slowly, licking the fingers clean.

Sideswipe smirked at the pair, then gave a sidelong look at Flashdrive, and smirked again as the older brother was trying hard not to get completely revved up at the sight of his brother and lover in such a simple, intimate moment.

A low sound of want, of arousal, intense and intimate, escaped Jazz's chest. Arousal of a very different kind than in the garden.

Prowl smiled at the sound, this time offering a confection in return.

::Getting some good fantasies for later?:: Sideswipe teased his lover over the comm.

::I hope you brought some of that energon gel,:: Flashdrive tried not to growl over the comm. His optics were locked on the utterly delicate way Jazz's glossa slipped from between parted lips to curl around the confection and draw it slowly into his mouth. His ventilations picked up as that glossa slipped out to draw Prowl's fingers into Jazz's mouth, one at a time.

::For you? Always got it.:: Sideswipe smirked, openly admiring the other pair.

Prowl's optics dimmed in pleasure, engine rumbling. "You are beautiful," he murmured to the silver minibot. He leaned in a placed a kiss on the side of Jazz's helm, then was abruptly reminded of their company at the sound of Sideswipe's engine revving. He dipped his head, wings fluttering in the embarrassment of losing himself.

"I am reminded why it is tradition to lock newly bonded couples in their quarters for a metacycle," Zyphra said with a touch of resignation. "You are a lovely couple, but _please_ focus on the company."

Jazz immediately ducked his helm, his armor pulled tightly against his protoform in submission.

"Yes, Carrier. I'm sorry," Prowl's wings drooped slightly, gaze dropping to acknowledge the chide.

"Do you wish to be excused to dine with your love?" Zyphra offered gently when the pair reacted responsibly.

::Jazz? What do you wish?:: Prowl commed his lover, not wanting to decide for both of them without his preferences.

::I ... always want time alone with you,:: Jazz said hesitantly. ::You have not been near them in a vorn.::

::I feel the same about you,:: Prowl replied. "We will stay for the main course, but we should probably be excused afterwards."

"Of course," Zyphra smiled at them. "What is of interest for a visitor?" he directed at Jazz.

* * *

After the one scolding, Prowl and Jazz managed to hold themselves to Zyphra's level of decorum until they were done with the main meal, but only barely. Now they were in their berth room and Prowl pressed the silver minibot against the wall just next to the door, kissing him thoroughly. He was venting heavily when he pulled back, resting his forehead against Jazz's to gaze in his visor.

"Jazz..." he whispered huskily.

"Prowl," Jazz moaned, pressing his chassis against the larger one pinning him as he slid his valve cover open and wrapped a leg around Prowl's leg.

"I think I love you," he whispered before kissing Jazz again, his interface cover opened and he sank his pressurizing spike in the familiar, welcoming valve. He groaned softly, starting to rock into his lover.

Jazz groaned in pleasure and clung tightly to Prowl as he was lifted by the larger mech and pinned against the wall. His legs wrapped around Prowl's waist as he worked his valve, tightening and loosening in a wave up and down the full length.

Prowl's thrusts sped up, gaining force as their charge built. He brought his head down, nuzzling at the silver mech's neck as Jazz threw his head back and keened in bliss, completely lost in the physical pleasure of their interfacing.

The Praxian shuddered at the sound, thrusting harder. He mouthed and licked Jazz's neck, driving them both to overload.

Jazz clung to Prowl tightly as the charge dissipated, licking at his lover's neck until their fans turned down several notches. A gentle nuzzle and kiss to Prowl neck and he whispered. "I'm sorry, Prowl. I'm so sorry. I never meant for that."

"I know," Prowl whispered, and placed a chaste kiss on Jazz's lips. "It is not something one can plan for, or prevent. I merely want you to know why I am so determined to keep you near, at least for as long as you wish to be."

"I will always wish to be with you," Jazz murmured, a faint shiver passing through his frame as he struggled to accept that pain this, he, would cause Prowl all too soon. "I wish it wouldn't hurt you when I'm gone."

"You are worth it." Prowl kissed his helm, his arms wrapping more firmly around Jazz to carry him over to the berth. Laying the silver mech down, he leaned over and kissed him again.

Jazz kissed him back with fervor, eager to forget the distress of their words. He reached inward and played his hands across Prowl's chest, asking to pleasure the mech's spark chamber. Prowl parted his chest plates and soon the two were once again lost in pleasure, overloading the other repeatedly.

Eventually Prowl slumped beside his lover, exhausted and quickly slipping into recharge.

Jazz remained snuggled against him for nearly half a joor, recharging briefly, just to make sure Prowl wasn't going to cycle up. Only then did he carefully extract himself from the berth, pausing once more to ensure Prowl hadn't noticed, and slipped away.

He needed the understanding processors and the familiar embrace of clade that was only in the Royal Palace. A handful of short comms ensured that Prowl would not be confused if he powered up before Jazz returned and that he would be notified the moment Prowl did begin to exit recharge.

It was less than a breem, but Jazz was trembling enough when he crossed the entrance to the slave quarters that the guard on duty actually stopped him, intent on taking him to the medic. It took everything Jazz had to convince him that it was just emotional distress and he needed his clade, not a medic.

Eventually the guard relented, allowing Jazz to continue on to his clade's domain within the slave quarters. The door had barely shut behind him when Sequence and Dart embraced him, enclosing him in a circle of comfort, understanding, acceptance and permission to break down.

With a sob, Jazz let the tension drain from him, allowed his elders to absorb his grief, his excess energy, everything he'd been holding inside bled out of him from his field into theirs. Dart hummed soothingly, stroking the back of his helm as Sequence held them both until Jazz calmed, his keening sobs slowed to a shiver.

"What happened, sweetling?" Sequence asked with a gentle cooing trill.

"Prowl's carrier and older brother came," Jazz gathered himself, his wits, to retell events in an organized manner. "They're determined to buy me, free me. Prowl thinks he loves me. Why _me_?" he keened with another sob as buried his face against his clade leader's chassis.

Dart pressed close, still stroking Jazz's helm and back. "You are beautiful and there, and he is young," Dart said in a soothing tone.

"Shu," Sequence cooed. "None of it need concern you, sweetling. He is kind to you, you enjoy his attentions." He paused as Jazz nodded. "He will understand in time."

"It hurts," Jazz admitted, pressing into the comfort. "It shouldn't hurt."

"No, you are young too," Sequence soothed him. "He is very attractive and can keep your charge down. It is an addictive combination, not one to fear. Our existence is so short compared to theirs. You are lucky, Jazz, to have an outsider who dotes on you."

"Not many of us have someone so powerful who cares for our needs. Allow yourself to enjoy his attentions," Dart crooned.

Jazz nodded, shivering as he relaxed into the attention of his elders, of mechs who _understood_. "What is so great about freedom? I don't understand his fixation."

"Mechs who are free believe we are abused by the nature of our caste," Sequence stroked him gently. "Especially those that have never _wanted_ for anything, such as your noble."

"They do not understand how well we have it, even refuse to," Dart curled around them both.

Jazz nodded, his systems calming both from the energy they were draining from him by their fields and their words. "He is good to me," he murmured. "Better than any of the others. He seems fixated on who my sire was too. He knows, he wants me to care. He acts like it _matters_."

"Among his kind, it does matter," Sequence said soothingly. "Prowl's own status is from his sire, even if his caste is from his carrier. He is not from a slave-state. It's not in his upbringing to understand that royal or slave, our sire has never mattered."

"Even the best of those who want to understand our culture cannot, not with their upbringing," Dart said, stroking Jazz's helm as the silver mech settled.

"I miss spending time with you," Jazz murmured, his frame beginning to relax.

"We miss having you here too." Dart placed a kiss on top of Jazz's helm, as if he were a youngling again.


	9. Difficult Conversations

Prowl stroked a hand along Jazz's back as the silver minibot rested against him, recovering from overload. Prowl's kin and the twins wanted to explore the city on their own. The Praxian Ambassador had decided to take advantage of their being away to spend some time with his lover. Something Jazz was _very_ much in favor of.

"Beautiful," he whispered, a hand coming up to cup Jazz's cheek.

Jazz merely hummed in contented pleasure, his visor still filled with static but clear enough to enjoy the view of the exotic mech with him. Functioning was _good_.

"Let me know when you have recovered," Prowl murmured. "There is something I wish to discuss with you."

Jazz managed a nod and focused a little more on putting his processor to rights. He had to admit that it was the rare mech that could send his systems into such a glorious spin.

"I'm cognizant," Jazz smiled and kissed the palm cupping his cheek.

Prowl smiled at the gesture before it fell from his lips. "There... There is a law that the Prime had passed not long ago that could help us get you from under Blastoff's command. Only..." Prowl's optics shut off, his helm pressing against Jazz's. "Only it would mean you finding out who your sire is."

"Okay..." Jazz's tone was at a loss. "Why would I have to know?"

Prowl vented heavily. "Have you heard of the nobility kin law? The one that requires noble families to acknowledge and provide for all living members of their families?"

"Of course, but I'm a slave," Jazz pointed out.

"It contains a clause regarding slaves," Prowl explained. "The law recognizes slaves sired by nobles as members of their sire's families, not as true slaves." He waited a moment, to see if the implications would occur to Jazz.

He saw a lot more than he expected.

Comprehension slammed almost directly into panic enough that Jazz's claws dug into Prowl's armor.

"When will it go into affect?" Jazz managed, trembling in raw terror.

"Shh, shh," Prowl tried to soothe him, holding the minibot close. "It is supposed to have already, however the Prime has the whole planet to deal with. Even if he were given a tip to look amongst Lord Blastoff's slaves, it would be many vorns before anything came of it." Prowl nuzzled Jazz's helm. "What has you so scared? I cannot ease your fears if I do not know them."

"He'll have us all extinguished before he allows that," Jazz trembled, his processor already tracing sire-lineages to count the number of friends he was going to lose. "No breeder will be allowed to go free, go out of his control."

"That is one of the many reasons it would take so long," Prowl murmured, rubbing Jazz's back. "The Prime is aware that many nobles in city-states with slaves will have that attitude. They will move slowly and discreetly, so that such masters are not alerted that they are being targeted. There is also a limit on how far back in the lineage they will look. Only those who are a noble's creations or grand-creations will be affected."

"To many," Jazz murmured, still tracking designations, numbers and locations. "Still so many. We have nowhere to go. Nothing to _be_."

"You will have your share of the family's funds. A chance to _chose_ what you want to be. Many slaves have marketable skills that will be applicable to respected jobs." Prowl nuzzled Jazz, his field modulated to soothe the minibot. "Jazz, you realize that _you_ are amongst those mechs affected if I am bringing this up, right?"

"Of course," he muttered, processors still scrambling at much more important things to him; the fate of those he cared about. "All breeders are, most twice. All our creations...." he shuddered as he traced further out from his own clade. "Prowl, you have _no idea_ what this will do, how much _damage_ this will cause. Thousands of lives over, the city economy....

"How is heritage determined, by law?" Jazz suddenly focused on his master.

"Within two degrees on either side. Confirmation will come from analyzing spark codes if there is any contention. As far as damage to the economy... It would cause severe damage if all affected slaves were freed at once. While the moral idealists would prefer that, I am realistic enough to know that will not happen. Prime and his Enforcers will focus on those already free whom know they are nobility first. It will be a long time before they look into any slaves unless they are deliberately directed towards a specific group. Many slaves who fall under it will be missed. Also, it applies only to those sired by nobility. Slaves sired by free commoners do not fall under this law." While the idea that those who deserved acknowledgement and freedom would not get it, he could understand that the Prime had to walk a very delicate line in implementing the law.

Jazz nodded and shivered before focusing on the noble, hoping the mech would _understand_. "Prowl, nearly every breeder has been sired by the ruling royal for as long as they've had the breeder project. Even cutting off at two generations, proving _one_ older breeder was sired by Lord Blastoff is four or five hundred mechs. They figure out the method, the project ... that is been all of us for generations of royals ... there aren't that many slaves in the palaces that _don't_ trace to a royal in two generations. Sixty, seventy percent do, I think. But breeders, most of us were sired by a royal, as was our carrier."

Prowl couldn't help the horrified shudder as Jazz explained the origin of the slaves. "That... that..."

"That is why he has smart, talented, long-lived slaves that sell for a premium," Jazz finished for him. "It takes two large sparks to produce a breeder. There aren't that many mechs who _can_ sire a breeder."

"To do that to his own creations..." Prowl shuddered again, hugging Jazz tight to him.

"We aren't," Jazz pointed out. "Not until this law changed a standard as old as slavery, _older_ than recorded history. The sire has never been more than a token under the law. It's always been the carrier who mattered for caste. Always."

"But most of those who created the law, including the Prime, are not from cities where slavery is the norm. For us, both the carrier _and_ sire are important."

Prowl leaned his helm against Jazz's as he held him tight. "I want to have you by my side, Jazz. Completely and without challenge," he whispered. "This law is our best chance of accomplishing that legally."

"At what cost?" Jazz asked, his voice unsteady. "My clade, thousands of lives whose only crime is their sire, this city's future?" His voice choked off by coding and training before he could go further and insult his master directly.

"I do not have all the answers. It is why I what my kin to help plan, especially Carrier. So that we can come up with something with the least amount of damage. We have time to plan and implement it, though, if we use your age of maturation as a goal." Prowl powered up his optics, holding Jazz's gaze as he pressed their foreheads together. "Please Jazz... Please understand..."

The silver mech trembled, his EM field fluctuating wildly in a chaotic jumble of emotions and reactions before he slumped down, systems and processors settling with relief as a choice was made.

"I believe I do," Jazz murmured and snuggled close, his field caressing Prowl's with affection and acceptance.

Prowl kissed him softly. "I would give you the world if I could," he whispered.

Jazz hummed and kissed him in return, his hands sliding along Prowl's chest, teasing the seams.

Prowl peppered kisses over Jazz's face. "You are amazing."

A low hum and a smile greeted Prowl as Jazz sought his mouth for another passionate kiss.


	10. Lashing Out

Jazz arched his chassis backwards as his hips flattened and legs spread. A display intended to arouse the mech under him even further even as Jazz took the delightfully thick, long spike deeper inside him. It was late evening and the last of the sun's light gleamed off his mirror finish as he rode Prowl, trembling in pleasure and desire as the larger mech gripped his hips and thrust upwards hard.

"So incredibly beautiful," Prowl moaned, his optics shining gold as he took in every movement of his silver lover. "Show me your pleasure." He bucked his hips in another hard thrust, pulling Jazz's down to meet them at the same time.

With a high keen Jazz's fingers scrabbled against Prowl's chest. His valve rippled around the thick spike as he tossed his helm back, reached back and grabbed his own legs. He let go of all his control protocols and cried out sharply, his bliss rushing through his field and into Prowl's.

"With me, Prowl!" Jazz gasped, shaking and right on the edge of an overload. "Want to feel yours inside me."

Prowl groaned at Jazz's display, causing an additional flicker of pride-pleasure in Jazz's field. "Yes!" he grunted, and with one last hard thrust overloaded, his hands tightening on Jazz's hips.

Without hesitation Jazz cried out, his entire frame tightening as the welcome, blissfully draining overload washed through him after the first hot splash of transfluid against the top of his valve. His chassis arched forward with his shoulders back, everything locked in place as the energy torn through him.

A shudder and low, satisfied moan preceded Jazz slumping forward with a resonant purr. Prowl vented heavily to try to dispel the heat, his hands moving from Jazz's hips to wrap around his torso. "So beautiful..."

"So good," Jazz murmured, his hands beginning to move, stroking Prowl's armor and he snuggled close. He purred, nuzzling his lover. "What do you think of leaning forward on your knees, your valve open to me and those enchanting wings spread at my mercy?"

Prowl shuddered as he nuzzled back. "I think that sounds very good." He captured Jazz's mouth in a blazing kiss before sitting up to move into the described position. He moaned when the first touch were firm, gentle hands on his hips, quickly followed by a glossa circling his valve entrance.

"I had no idea how incredible you looked like this until your brother showed me," Jazz purred against the sensitive metal. "You do look amazing."

Prowl cried out at the sensation, his wings spread and trembling. "You... sound... so amazing... giving orders..." he managed to gasp out.

A thoughtful hum vibrated against Prowl's valve entrance before a glossa penetrated it. "So you like being dominated, mmm?" Jazz purred, lapping up the slick lubricant that began to coat Prowl's valve. "You enjoy a _strong_ lover as much as I do?"

Prowl moaned helplessly, trying to push back into Jazz's touch. "I do. Don't mind ... being it for you... but enjoy... this side too."

Jazz fingers slipped into the seams of Prowl's hips as he purred, making the vibration run through his glossa and the valve around it. He pulled his head back to Prowl's groan of disappointment. "I'll have to indulge you a little more often then," he growled and drove his spike into the slick, hot valve. "You're intense like this."

Prowl cried out again, back arching and wings flaring to their full size as Jazz reached forward to stroke them possessively. His valve tightened around Jazz's spike, not wanting to let it go as the silver mech withdrew, only to thrust forward hard.

"So tight," Jazz grunted, honestly surprised.

"Good... so good..." the Praxian moaned, heedless of Jazz's comment. He only noticed when Jazz froze, the silver mech's field running cold with shock and rapidly mounting fear before he pulled out.

"Prowl, focus," Jazz's voice was harsh, commanding, _demanding_ in a way Prowl hadn't thought possible. "We're under attack. We need to get you to the saferoom."

Prowl immediately snapped to attention at Jazz's command, his tactical computer taking over to quash any lingering desire. "Of course." He shut his interface covers, but made no move to clean up. It would only waste time. "Let's go."

"Is there anything sensitive on your workstation?" Jazz asked ever as he moved towards the washracks.

"Nothing that an attacker would be interested in," Prowl replied as he followed Jazz. He watched closely as Jazz brushed his hand over a bit of ornament near waist level. It didn't look any different, didn't react in any way, but a section of the wall slid open to reveal a passage for someone not much larger than Jazz.

"It'll be tight, but you'll fit," Jazz promised as he slipped inside the dark space with ease. "Service corridors, so the staff isn't seen."

Prowl nodded, tucking his wings in tight to his body to minimize his size and followed Jazz into the space. "What of our guests? Will other servants make sure they are protected?"

"Keynote's with Lord Zyphra. Sidestep's with Lord Flashdrive, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. They'll be safe, my Lord," Jazz promised as they stepped into a quite large, very utilitarian room swarming with confused mechs, many of them Praxians. Out of nowhere someone threw an object at Jazz, who caught it smoothly. "The twins are insisting on fighting."

It was a moment before Prowl recognized it as a blaster.

Prowl nodded in acceptance, then tilted his head in confusion at the blaster. "What are you doing?"

"Best leader on site, Lord Prowl," Jazz shrugged as he wove a path through the crowd, occasionally giving directions to mechs as he passed. "Once you are safe, I'm going to make sure this palace is taken back."

"Jazz..." Worry flooded him, threatening to shut down his tactical computer. "You're not...?" He had thought Jazz would be in there with him, safe.

"I'll be fine, Lord Prowl," Jazz assured him before his helm snapped to one side, zeroing in on something. ::Cleansweep, give Blue a riffle and perch him overlooking the garden. He'll defend what's his.::

::Yes, sir,:: a reply came back from Cleansweep, a mech Prowl, belatedly, realized was a local free mech.

Prowl frowned, but didn't protest further, watching as Jazz organized the mechs as he led Prowl further on. It was disturbing, enlightening ... and it bode very well for Jazz's ability to adapt to existence as a free mech and noble. The mech had a natural talent for leadership, even if Prowl admitted he was not the least biased judge.

"Prowl," his creator's voice was relieved as Zyphra tried not to appear to hurry to him, lead by a sleek deep red skater frame.

"Follow Keynote, Lord Prowl," Jazz said as he suddenly veered away.

Prowl gasped as he processed what Jazz meant and reached to grab him, but his hands closed on air. "Jazz!" His wings trembled as he watched Jazz disappear in the crowd, worry surged within him, finally shutting down his tactical computer.

"Where is Jazz going?" Zyphra asked as he came even with his creation.

"He is in charge of the defenses, my lord," Keynote replied when Prowl didn't seem to hear his carrier's question.

Zyphra nodded, then reached out to place his hand between his creation's sensor wings to guide him much as he had when Prowl was little. "Continue," he instructed Keynote, indicated he would take charge of his distressed creation.

"How did Jazz gain such rank?" Zyphra asked as the entered another dim corridor, though this one was wide enough for the Praxians and angled down.

"It is because he knows all of us best, my Lord," Keynote replied as he led the two Praxians further on. "He knows where each person will do best, and Lord Prowl is the third ambassador he has directly assisted."

Zyphra nodded with a private smile and focused on keeping Prowl move. His wings told him that Flashdrive and a mech he didn't know yet were following them. Three levels down in silence and Keynote was in the lead, Prowl behind him, then Zyphra, Flashdrive and Sidestep taking up the rear.

None of the Praxians quite caught what Keynote did to open the wall in front of them, which meant it was some kind of sensor.

It opened into a simple, well-lit room, appointed comfortably with six berths stacked two high, couches and chairs around a simple entertainment center and in one corner an energon dispenser.

"You'll be safe in here for at least six decaorns, the dispenser is good for six mechs for almost seven if you ration it," Keynote explained. "Once it's locked down this room can only be opened from the inside. You'll be safe here until things calm down."

Prowl managed to shake himself back to awareness during the walk, and he looked to the two servants. "Thank you. And the two of you?"

"We'll be outside, with the others," Keynote said as Sidestep slipped into the darkness, headed back to help his own caste and kin.

Prowl nodded as the door shut, locking the three noble Praxians in. When he heard the click of the lock he deflated, wings drooping, and stumbled to sit on one of the berths.

"Prowl, if he has earned their loyalty, Jazz will be fine," Zyphra sat next to her younger creation and held him, his right sensor wing unfolding fully to shield his back. "This isn't an invasion, just a small group of discontents."

"Hey, it'll be okay," Flashdrive added, sitting on Prowl's other side and mirroring Zyphra's pose.

"I thought he would be in here with us," Prowl whispered, leaning into his family's touch. "Even discontents can be dangerous. What if...?" He couldn't even name the possibility.

"As much as I hate it, remember how _valuable_ Jazz is," Flashdrive sighed deeply. "There isn't a mech here that wouldn't give their spark to protect him, whether it's out of loyalty to him, to you, to Lord Blastoff ... or fear of not doing so. Breeders ... is a death penalty to damage one even lightly. He'll be safe."

Zyphra glanced at her older creation. "How do you know?"

"Did you really think I wouldn't look up _all_ the options, Creator?" Flashdrive focused on him. "When _Sideswipe_ begs me not to try something, I know just how serious it's taken."

Prowl trembled. He heard what his brother said, but it didn't, couldn't calm the worry in his spark. Still, it wouldn't do to dwell on it. "Why did your lovers chose not to go with us?" he asked his brother.

Flashdrive's sensor wings slumped. "Somewhere between the excitement I really don't understand and protecting Sunstreaker's creations, they weren't going to budge. Even when they're sold, he's a touch possessive of them."

Prowl wrapped an arm around his brother and held him close. "Do they have training for it?"

"Sideswipe does," he nodded. "Enough to protect himself at least. He deals in a lot of valuable things and usually has more credits on him than any of us. Sunstreaker ... he's got his temper and very fine construction, but mostly he has his brother. If the attackers are who we were told, they can hold their own with the people here."

"I wasn't told. Who is it that's attacking?" Prowl asked.

"Local dissidents, low-caste mechs angry about conditions," Zyphra answered. "I'm sure you've seen reports of the uprisings from all over Cybertron."

Prowl nodded. "Yes. How bad are they back home?"

"Calm," Zyphra assured him. "Praxus has made the investments needed to keep citizens from going hungry or without shelter. Not all are happy, but not enough are discontent to cause more trouble than the enforcers are accustomed to."

Prowl accepted that and settled in with his kin for the wait.

* * *

::Suresweep, how's the mechling?:: Jazz pinged the cleaner's comm even as he scrambled through an air duct to spy on their intruders.

::Holding his own,:: came the reply. ::Calmed down soon as I got the gun in his hands and focused on the targets. He's surprisingly good for not having any formal training.::

::Good, be ready for the breakdown when he realizes what he's done,:: Jazz said grimly. He paused, spotting a single intruder. His lip plates curled up in a silent snarl as his frame shimmered, melting and rearranging into a six-limbed felinoid mech with four razor-lined tentacles on his back.

::Snaptight, report,:: Jazz requested calmly as he used the magnetic upgrades in his hands, originally mean to sooth aching frames and sparks, to open the vent he'd been spying out of.

::We're holding the line, but just barely,:: Snaptight grunted. ::Their numbers are greater than anything we've trained for. And I don't know where they got some of these weapons. Hard to get, even for those who know the right people.::

::Yell if you lose ground. I'll back you up.:: Jazz promised as he lunged from the vent, all supple black and green grace, and landed on his target. ::Royal Guard should arrive within the breem. They won't dally with me in the middle of this.::

"Mech, you want to live, you're gonna talk to me _fast_ ," Jazz growled down at his captive. "Where'd the weapons come from?"

"I-i don't know!" the low-class Protihexian stammered as he was pinned. "One of the other mechs that was coming to the meeting had them. He never said his designation!" The mech struggled, but couldn't throw Jazz off of him.

"Show me," Jazz growled, slicing the cover off a dataport with a tentacle and jabbing a connector in. He used his incredible reserves of spark energy to barrel into the mech's systems, stunning most of them as he sought his information.

The mech's mouth dropped open in a silent scream of pleasure-pain. He tried to block the memory, to not think of it, but that only brought it further to the surface.

The mech at the meeting was a black Kaonite with red optics. One of the common labor models, with no customizations added on to his armor.

A little more digging and Jazz used a tentacle to claim the mech's weapon and stepped off him, disconnecting the hardline. "I catch you on my grounds again, I'll tear you to shreds. But you don't deserve to die for wanting a living wage. Get out while you can."

The mech nodded frantically and scrambled to his pedes, a look of terror on his face. As soon as he was up, he was running away and didn't even look back at the mech who spared him.

As Jazz turned to climb back in the vent system, a heavy bolt of energy, enough to scramble half his systems, erupted against his side.

::Hit!:: Jazz screamed over the comm system in an open broadcast for help before his comm system shut down. His frame was largely paralyzed, but his processors and many of his sensors were still more-or-less functional.

"Well, well, got a nice little prize here," chuckled a low voice. A mech with the appearance of a Protihexian hauler looked down at the minibot. He smirked as he scooped Jazz up. "You're worth more in good condition."

Jazz desperately wanted to ask questions, but the most he could get out of his vocalizer was spats of static. His frame twitched randomly, but not at his command. Who would dare steal a breeder from Lord Blastoff? Who could _possibly_ be that insane?

The mech snuck out of a side entrance to the palace, where the fighting was the thinnest. The few servant defenders who saw tried to rush to Jazz's aid, only to be knocked down by their opponents.

* * *

::Hey, open up, place is clear!:: Sideswipe's cheery voice called over a short range comm to Flashdrive.

Flashdrive's expression brightened as he shot to his pedes. "We're clear! Just got a comm from Sideswipe. They're on the other side of the door!" He rushed over to the door, quickly unlocking and opening it and all but falling into the arms of his lovers.

Prowl sat up from the berth he'd been lying on. "I assume it went well, then." He twitched, ready in case Jazz was on the other side of the door.

Only there was no Jazz. Just the twins. Just Flashdrive's lovers.

"They're tracking him down," Sunstreaker shrugged.

Prowl froze. "What do you mean, 'tracking him down'?" he asked quietly.

"He's not on the grounds, so a couple of the better hunters took some guards to track him down," Sideswipe said as he tucked Flashdrive against his chest and purred his engine to comfort the stressed noble. "Bluestreak saw someone hauling a minibot off but they didn't go near the garden so he didn't pay much attention."

"No... no..." Prowl shuddered, wings quivering. "He has to be alright..."

"Prowl, remember how important he is," Zyphra tried to make her younger creation focus. "Whoever wants him will want him alive and healthy. Focus. Who would be willing to risk this and have the funding to pull it off?"

Prowl shut off his optics and vented hard, forcing his tactical computer to take control. After a few long moments his trembling stopped and optics powered on. "You are correct, Carrier. There are many in the nobility with the funds for such an attempt. As for those with motives... there is not enough data to say."

"Jazz said that Lord Shockwave of Hive City and Lord Straxus of Kaon tried to buy him, has he mentioned anyone else?" Sideswipe asked.

"No," Prowl answered. "It was not a topic we discussed much. It was distressing for him."

"Let's go back to your private library and work on this," Flashdrive suggested.

"Yes, allow the trackers to do their job, while we do what we do best," Zyphra said firmly as he moved to encourage Prowl to move.

"Alright," Prowl conceded, rising to his pedes. "Though I do wish to know the casualties, besides Jazz."

"Still being sorted out," Sideswipe said. "At least two dozen dead, but they're still trying to ID what side they were on. Most of the staff that fought were injured."

Prowl nodded, allowing himself to be guided from the room. "I am sorry that there was any loss of life."

"They started it," Sunstreaker shrugged as they fell into a line with the golden artist in the lead. "We just finished it."

The ambassador didn't reply as they made their way to his library. He was trying not to brood on the casualties or his missing lover. That held his processors in distraction until he felt his brother's hand just below the back of his neck and everything went black with shutdown.

* * *

Jazz felt relief wash through him as the errors, particularly to his vision and with his vocalizer, cleared up enough for him to feel confident of their condition. He wasn't entirely sure how long it took, his chronometer had been fried, but he recognized the territory so he knew he was still in Protihex. It couldn't have been more than a few joor. Even though they'd only stopped once -- to bind Jazz's limbs -- the transport alt he was being carried in wasn't fast.

"Hey, got a designation I can call ya?" Jazz asked, pleased his vocalizer responded correctly.

"You can call me Hauler, if you must," the mech replied, though clearly that wasn't his true designation.

"It's better than dead mech rolling," Jazz pointed out dryly. "You _do_ know what I am, right?"

"Of course I do. You're a breeder, and a breeder is wanted." Hauler shrugged.

Jazz mulled that over for a bit. "You know what the penalty is for stealing a breeder?"

"Won't matter. Not really." Hauler shrugged again.

"Why? Do you really believe you won't be found? That _I_ won't be found? Lord Blastoff is seriously possessive of his breeders."

"Or I could die in a factory accident before he ever finds me. There's never any guarantees." Hauler didn't seem fazed by the possibility.

That stunned Jazz. As short as _his_ functioning would be, he'd fight for every moment of it. A factory worker had so much more time. Sure, conditions could be harsh, but they were never hungry or without shelter as long as they didn't gamble their credits away. The factories _needed_ them strong and in reasonable condition.

"What are you being paid for me?" he tried a slightly different track.

Hauler snorted. "Not telling you that."

"Whatever it is, I'm sure my current lover will top it, probably even sweeten the deal," Jazz suggested, completely sure that Prowl _would_. "He thinks he's in love with me. Might even sponsor you in a move to Praxus."

"And would be more obvious," he snorted. "I'm not _that_ dumb."

"Well, what _do_ you want for stealing me?" Jazz asked reasonably.

"Not anything from you," he replied. It would be too easy to track him that way.

Jazz didn't stop trying, didn't stop _talking_ , until Hauler met up with the next mech. Only then did Jazz still and go silent, taking in who he was being delivered to. He quickly decided this was just another transport mech and prepared himself to try to talk the mech into trading him to Prowl instead of someone who probably didn't know how to handle a breeder.

This mech snorted and tossed Jazz over his shoulder as he walked.

"So, you have a designation I can call you?" Jazz asked.

"Shut up," he growled, jostling the mech on his shoulder.

"I'd rather not," Jazz responded to the aggression with petulant irritation growing in systems that hadn't even burned off a normal amount of energy in the last orn. "If you aren't going to talk to me, at least 'face me."

"I said, shut up!" the middle mech growled again, louder this time. He shook Jazz as well to reinforce the point--he was will to commit violence if provoked.

Jazz growled back. A fight would do. "Make me."

"You little worthless scrapbag!" Enraged, he threw Jazz to the ground and brought a fist down to hit him only to find that his target had rolled away. By the time he pulled his fist from the ground, Jazz was on his pedes and his hands were shifting from the long, thin form they'd taken to slip from the bindings.

"Hey!" He charged at Jazz, snarling in anger.

The minibot wasn't about to hang around. Free and free of restraints, he darted away and transformed to speed home, confident in his ability to outmaneuver and out race the much larger, heavier mech. The other mech roared as he gave chase, but he didn't stand a chance at catching the minibot and they both knew it.


	11. Reunion

Prowl sighed as he watched his brother and Sideswipe playing some sort of game that involved a lot of touching and tickling. He knew he should be able to figure out the rules of the game by observation, but he just couldn't put forth the energy for it. Sunstreaker was sitting in a corner, sketching, positioned so that none of the other occupants of the room could see what was on his pad.

Prowl's spark ached. It had been well over an orn, and there was still no news about Jazz. He prayed that the minibot was unharmed, but the longer he was gone the more likely something drastic had happened to him.

He was sure the small device he couldn't reach on his back also had something to do with his dulled processors and general inability to be more assertive than he was. It _definitely_ was why he was the last to react to the comm station beeping for attention.

Instead Flashdrive answered. By the time Prowl got close, his brother's sensor wings were flared wide in shock and trembling with relief.

"What?" he asked his brother. "What has happened?"

"Jazz is a bit scuffed up, tired and was hungry, but he'll be on a shuttle here shortly," Flashdrive summarized it. "Seems he got away and made it to the enforcer station in Telicrox."

"He's alright?" Prowl whispered, wings rising and fluttering in surprised shock. "He's safe?"

"Yes and yes," Flashdrive nodded as Sunstreaker reached over to take the inhibitor off Prowl. He turned to the enforcer waiting patiently for his attention to return. "Thank you for telling us, Lieutenant Camber."

"You are welcome, Lord Flashdrive. Jazz was quite distressed until I agreed to contact the embassy. Have a good orn, my Lord," the enforcer said before the connection was cut.

Prowl trembled and swayed on his pedes as emotions came rushing back, relief at the head. "Oh thank Primus..." His fans picked up as he struggled to process his emotions once more. He shut off his optics and willing allowed his brother to guide him to a plush Praxian chair.

"You should be able to see him by morning," Flashdrive knelt to be more optic level with Prowl. "Blastoff's medic will want to check him out first."

Prowl nodded, powering his optics up to meet his brother's. "I understand. ...I just wish he were here now." Prowl continued to tremble. "I want to make sure myself that he is alright."

"Do you want to recharge until he gets here?" Flashdrive offered gently.

"I do not..." Prowl sighed. "Perhaps that might be for the best. I wish to be back online before Jazz arrives, though."

"Of course," Flashdrive coaxed his brother to stand and walk to the berthroom. "I'll make sure you're up to par before he sees you."

"Thank you." Prowl stood at the prompting, and was able to walk by himself to the berth, though his steps weren't as firm as normal. He lay down, turned his optics off, and relaxed into the forced shutdown.

The next thing Prowl became aware of was booting up, slightly disoriented until memory files played to catch him up. Jazz, kidnapped. He'd managed to escape and reach help. His brother promising to bring him around when Jazz would be soon to arrive. Powering up his optics, he caught sight of Flashdrive above him. "Is it almost time?"

"Yes," he nodded. "You have a joor to clean up, orient and such." He offered a hand. "Care for some help polishing?"

Prowl took his brother's hand as he rose. "That would be appreciated." His wings flicked and settled in their normal position, but his steps were quickened as he made his way to the washrack. He half expected Flashdrive to try and arouse him, as it was rare for them to wash together and not interface, but his brother kept his touches platonic and efficient.

"Save your energy for Jazz," Flashdrive said randomly as he worked Prowl's sensor wings. "He's going to want a lot of attention."

Prowl nodded. "He likely was not able to burn off energy to the extent that he normally does."

"Yes, two full orns worth, I expect," he said as they entered the dry cycle. "He sounded _extremely_ eager to see you again. He looks like he's in perfect condition too."

"You spoke to him?" Prowl's helm whipped around to look at his brother, wings raised.

"Of course. How else would I know when he's arriving?" Flashdrive pointed out. "Now turn around so I can finish your back. There's only a breem left."

Prowl did as told, though his fans kicked up in anticipation. "Did he mention anything else?"

"That he'll be _displeased_ with anyone who bothers the two of you for at least an orn," he snickered. "I'm quite sure he doesn't intend to spend any of that recharging either."

Even the idea had Prowl's engine revving. "It is safe to assume that 'displeased' would be an understatement, and I likely would be in a similar state. Perhaps it would be best not to expect us for an orn and a half, at least, in order for us to get in _some_ recharge."

"I'm going with the 'don't go in until one of you comes out' system of keeping my wings intact," Flashdrive chuckled and turned off the blowers. "That's a good as you're going to look with just a joor and me. Not that I expect Jazz will care one way or another. You'll find a bonding supply of energon near your berth."

Prowl turned and grabbed his brother's hand. "Thank you, Flashdrive. You have been a great help, and not just with my appearance."

With a gentle, chaste kiss Flashdrive smiled at him. "You're welcome. Enjoy having such a fine lover."

Prowl slowly smiled for the first time since this ordeal started. "'Enjoy' will be an understatement."

Now ready to face his lover, Prowl led the way to the formal greeting room for his suite. Assured that his brother was well, Flashdrive nodded and bid a quiet farewell, slipping out to find his own lovers. Less than a klik later the door opened for Jazz, who looked as perfect and polished as during their first encounter, but _much_ more blatantly wanton.

"Jazz," Prowl whispered, and he was moving towards the other, scooping him up in his arms and kissing the silver minibot with all of the relief, passion, and love in his spark when they met.

"Prowl," Jazz moaned, shaking with arousal, need and relief as his chassis was pulled up even with Prowl's, their sparks almost level. Despite the efforts of his kin, all he could process right now was his _need_ to overload, to have Prowl's spike deep inside him and feel the larger mech's strength as he was taken against the wall.

Prowl took the last few steps to press Jazz against the wall, one thigh slid between silver ones to support the minibot's weight. He ground his body against Jazz's, even as he covered his face with kisses. White hands, free from the need to support the silver mech's weight, stroked all over his body in a need to both arouse and to check for himself that Jazz was hale and whole.

By the time Prowl was content with Jazz's condition, the minibot was squirming, whining in a desperate need he had no ability to give words to anymore. His valve cover was open, Prowl's thigh slick with lubricant, his spike fully pressurized and seeking stimulation.

Prowl groaned and kissed him again, his own interface hatch opening and he sank his pressurizing spike in Jazz's valve. He thrust, one hand slipping between them to stroke the silver spike. "Need you, need you..." he grunted in Jazz's audio in time with his movements.

"Yes!" Jazz could only howl, his valve already charged and sending jolts of electricity into the spike that finally filled it. By the fourth thrust, Jazz lost himself and keened in a hard, blissful overload as he gripped Prowl's armor with desperate strength.

"Need you," Prowl continued to chant, thrusting hard into Jazz through the other's overload. Ports spiraled open, the matching cables stroking at Jazz's ports that opened immediately.

Jazz's systems welcomed his lover in every way, wanting, hungry. ~Yes, need you, want you, only you.~

Prowl eagerly sank into Jazz's processors even faster than his spike was sinking into his hot, slick valve. He lost himself in the merging of their thoughts. ~You complete me, need you, forever.~ Unconsciously, his chestplates began to part, spark casing moving forward.

~Yes, please, want you,~ Jazz's thoughts replied, his chest plates opening faster, eagerly. ~Want you with me for as long as I have. Want you, Prowl.~

~Need to feel you, to show you.~ Prowl's spark chamber spiraled open as he pressed as close to his lover as he could get, spike thrusting frantically in Jazz's valve, but no longer nearly enough. The first touch of their coronas drew ragged moans from them both as their frames faded to the background.

~Yes,~ Jazz shuddered and pressed closer, wanting this more than ever, reveling in being offered this forbidden pleasure.

~Need you,~ Prowl repeated as the merge deepened, showing Jazz just how much he meant it. His pleasure at just having Jazz near, the way Jazz balanced him emotionally while challenging him mentally, the way Jazz drew out a more playful side that even Flashdrive hadn't fully exposed. And underlining it all, a sense of the love that Prowl felt for him, but hadn't brought up again after that one conversation.

It left Jazz stunned, his shock at comprehending that this _wasn't_ the simple 'I'm pretty and there' crush he'd convinced himself of sending his processors reeling and his spark lunging forward to deepen the merge. He had nothing like that to offer, nothing so deep or perspective changing, but he showed Prowl what he could. The enjoyment he had not in the berth, how _good_ Prowl felt against him, whether interfacing or not. How much more soundly and effectively he recharged. How much he relished the equality Prowl treated him with.

Beyond it all, was the wordless sense of how much Jazz _trusted_ Prowl. Not the trust with Jazz's self, that was easy for the silver mech to give, part of his programming. The real trust Prowl had earned was Jazz trusting him with his clade, with the secrets of his caste. With information that could destroy everything Jazz held dear.

It wasn't the same, but to Prowl all of the little things as well as Jazz's trust added up to something that was just as powerful. Prowl moaned, wrapping Jazz up in his emotions, willing to lose himself in the intimacy of knowing and being known so deeply. When Jazz joined him in that safe, comforting bliss, the rest of the universe simply ceased to matter.

* * *

Prowl rumbled contently as he began to rouse some time later. His body was pleasantly sore from an excess of interfacing, still wrapped around Jazz. At some point they had made their way to the berth, but the memories were too blurred from pleasure for him to decipher in his current state. What mattered to him most was clear. Jazz had returned, was whole, healthy and purring in contentment against him.

Slowly memories, or bits of them, filtered up from the incomplete files of their reunion. Taking Jazz against the wall. The desperation the minibot had to interface. How quickly he'd overloaded....

"Oh Primus," Prowl whispered as their spark merge filtered to the surface. The event itself had been exquisitely perfect, an exchange of deep affection, importance and love that went both ways, even if Jazz didn't use that word for it. The desire to be with the other forever. He trembled as he processed the full implications of what they had done. One hand came up and rested on Jazz's chest, just over his spark. Prowl vented to steady himself, and brought his helm down to press against Jazz's.

Jazz was no doubt with new spark now. Prowl had done what he'd sworn he never would. The emotional connection they had shared and now had was priceless, but the price ... such pain for Jazz and the loss of the first spark Prowl had kindled.

The soft hum of Jazz's systems powering up from forced recharge gave Prowl a warning that his time to think was almost up. It was time to face Jazz and what he had done.

Prowl nuzzled Jazz's cheek, then pulled back enough to watch his visor, wanting to be the first thing Jazz saw as he booted up.

"Hi, handsome," Jazz murmured, his processors still a bit fuzzy from recharge.

"Good morning, beautiful," Prowl replied. His hand moved up from the silver chest plates to cup Jazz's jaw, his thumb rubbing Jazz's cheek tenderly. "What do you remember from yesterday?"

"Mmm, it was really, _really_ good," Jazz turned his helm to kiss the hand on his cheek. "So glad to be home." He paused. "You don't just have a crush on me."

"No, I don't," Prowl confirmed. He let his body curl around Jazz's a bit more, and continued to stroke Jazz's face.

"What's bothering you, lover?" Jazz asked softly, concerned. He couldn't recall anything but wonderful since his return.

"We sparkmerged." Prowl couldn't regret the pleasure and the understanding that came from it, but the consequences would have to be discussed.

"Yes," Jazz looked up, confusion flickering through his field. "Several times."

"What are the chances we kindled?" Prowl whispered, his gaze still locked on Jazz's visor.

Jazz cocked his head, his expression serious. "It doesn't matter Prowl. I can't carry to term yet."

"Even with medical care?" Prowl asked, one cable stroking one of Jazz's ports in a silent request for a hardline connection that was immediately granted.

~I'm only three hundred and fifty four,~ Jazz told him gently, drawing on the better understanding he had of his lover as best he could. ~Lord Blastoff will never permit it so young. The fatality rate is far too high.~

Beyond the words came the _understanding_ Jazz had. He wanted, hoped, wished, _desired_ to be with Prowl his entire existence, but it did not change the fundamental fact that he was a breeder and owned by another. To keep the new spark or not was not and would never be his choice. It hurt deep down, but it was a simple truth of his existence.

~Our sparkling,~ Prowl whispered, burying his face in the side of Jazz's helm. ~How long can you hold on?~

~Shu,~ Jazz stroked him, trying to sooth him. ~It'll be okay. It's not a matter of my holding on. If I don't deal with it the medic will in a hundred and three decacycles when I get my metacycle checkup.~

~Not right away, please.~ Prowl nuzzled Jazz, holding him close. ~Let me talk to Carrier first. Please.~

~I'll give you as long as I can,~ Jazz promised, turning the nuzzle into a kiss. ~Until the orn before my checkup. Okay?~

~Thank you,~ Prowl replied, relaxing into the kiss. ~You are beautiful, wonderful... I am so glad you came home safe.~

~So am I,~ Jazz purred, his hands becoming more assertive. ~On the up side ... we can merge sparks whenever we want to for a while.~

~This is true.~ Prowl kissed him again, deepening. ~Still uncomfortable with how I feel about you?~

Jazz thought about it for a moment. ~No. You aren't confusing things.~

~I love you.~ Prowl scattered kisses over his face, pressing his body down on Jazz's.

* * *

With Jazz well and truly sated, Prowl knew he should drop into recharge as well, but he couldn't. Not with what he'd just learned. He had to speak to his carrier, possibly both his creators, and soon.

He slipped from the berth and made a quick effort to clean himself up, at least from the worst of the mess his frame currently was. With a quick check and kiss for Jazz, he left to speak to Zyphra.

It didn't take Prowl long to reach the guest suite his carrier was staying in and to press the chime requesting entrance. He fidgeted as he waited for Zyphra to answer, unsure how he would take the news that Prowl had accidentally kindled with Jazz, and that Jazz would not be allowed to carry it to term.

When the door slid open, his carrier's expression went from curious to concerned in a sparkbeat.

"Come in," he said and stepped aside. "High grade?"

Prowl shook his head as he entered. "No high grade, thank you." He faced Zyphra after the door closed, wings trembling. "I.. Something happened while Jazz and I were celebrating his return. Something I had been avoiding..." Prowl's gaze dropped to the floor.

"You merged with him," Zyphra didn't really have to guess. He gently guided his creation to the nearest chairs and got him settled. "I cannot say I am surprised given your reaction to his kidnapping."

"Yes, Carrier," Prowl replied as he sat. "While I am grateful to have a better understanding of how he feels towards me, and for him to understand me... The probability for him _not_ kindling is nearly impossible," he continued in a near-whisper.

"And he is far too young for any physician to agree that carrying is safe for him," Zyphra finished for him. "Which means Lord Blastoff will never agree to allow it to develop to term. Do you know how long we have?"

"One hundred and three decacycles. Jazz was agreeable to waiting until just before his next medical exam to take any action that would disperse our sparkling." Prowl's wings continued to tremble as he reached for his creator's hand. "The slave coding does it's best to suppress it, but Carrier ... it hurts him each time he loses a sparkling."

"I'm sure even without the slave code he'd do his best to not think of it," Zyphra said gently and held Prowl's hand. "Prowl, I must warn you. Even if we can arrange for his freedom there is not a physician on Cybertron that will not recommend dispersing it. Jazz's spark is not mature itself. Carrying at his age is dangerous. Not just for his spark and the new spark, but they might become twins, their sparks permanently bonded and part of each other. He _can_ carry to term, but it may not be the best choice for anyone."

"But he can't chose for himself if he wants to take the risk," Prowl replied. "He can't even process theoretical for _if_ he were free." Prowl shut off his optics as his carrier gathered him into his arms and held him close. Prowl's field said everything that he wouldn't, couldn't put into words. That he already cared for the sparkling that would likely never be allowed to live. That he wanted to be able to live as a family with Jazz.

"Shh, my creation," Zyphra murmured, stroking his first wing segment soothingly. "We will do all we can, but in the end it may not make a difference. In a choice between carrier and new spark, the carrier's survival will always come first. Even if they do not wish it to."

Prowl shuddered as he pressed in towards his carrier for comfort. "I could not live with myself if I didn't at least try to find a way to give our sparkling a chance," he whispered.

"We will do our best. This new timeline does restrict our options. I have spoken with your sire. He agrees with me. If it comes to it, we will take them all in, even those locked in stasis."

Prowl relaxed as he vented, his carrier's words easing a weight on his processor. "It likely will. Lord Blastoff will not react well if it is revealed that someone knows just how closely related his slaves are to him. Would you want to involve Jazz in the planning? I am not sure we can avoid invoking the kin law in any plans in such a short timeframe, and the idea of it terrifies him."

"Why, exactly?" he asked gently, a processor nearly as fine as Prowl's working hard on variables.

"Apparently all, or nearly all, of the royal breeders were sired by Lord Blastoff," Prowl whispered. "So every sparkling that they have produced to work in the palace or be sold off..."

"Merciful Primus," Zyphra gasped, his frame going rigid as he did the math without thinking. "There must be thousands. But what is it that Jazz fears will happen?"

"That Lord Blastoff is willing to get rid of evidence if he suspects that the Prime's mechs are investigating him. That Jazz would lose many kin and friends so that Lord Blastoff will not have to share his wealth." Prowl shuddered at the thought of so many lives being lost.

Zyphra hummed and stroked the sensor suite between Prowl's wings to calm him. "I may have an idea. Run this through your tactical computer...."

* * *

Feeling much better about the accidental sparkling, Prowl returned to his suite and made his way to the berthroom. He smiled when he saw that Jazz was still in recharge on the berth and carefully walked over. He sat next to him for a moment, watching Jazz's peaceful face, before the orn caught up to him. Suddenly exhausted, he curled himself around his lover, one white hand coming up to rest just over that beloved spark.

It was some time later when Prowl drifted back into consciousness, fully rested and feeling supremely content with the small, warm body in his arms. He could feel Jazz's systems in light recharge; the minibot no longer needed to rest but hadn't cycled up to full awareness yet.

A tender smile curved his lips as he watched Jazz rest for a long moment, before he leaned in to pepper his faceplate with feather light kisses. The soft hum of systems powering up greeted the action until Jazz tipped his face up to claim Prowl's mouth, his visor still off.

Prowl's lips came down to meet his in a slow and tender kiss that gradually deepened when Jazz opened his mouth and slid his glossa along Prowl's lip plates. Jazz's hands ran down Prowl's chest, teasing the seam.

Prowl moaned softly into the kiss, his hands running along Jazz's back as Jazz's hands continued down.

"Overload by wings?" Jazz suggested with a throaty rumble.

Prowl shuddered at the suggestion. "Please." His wings flared, on full display for his lover.

Jazz kissed him, languidly but passionately, and reached out to stroke what he could reach. That first touch spoke volumes of the silver mech's intent. This wasn't to be a fast, hard overload Jazz favored. He was aiming to draw it out; a slow, gentle spiral to bliss.

Prowl pressed into the touches with a low moan, his hands moving along Jazz's sides in long, slow strokes. "So good..."

"Good," Jazz purred, nuzzling him affectionately as he worked what he could reach of Prowl's sensor wings. "I want to indulge you."

Prowl nuzzled him back before capturing Jazz's lower lip and nibbling on it slightly. "Love you." He moaned and arched as Jazz found a particularly sensitive spot. True to Jazz’s intent, the overload built slowly in Prowl’s systems. However, it was a powerful experience when he finally was pushed over that edge.


	12. Playing for a Golden Fiddle

Prowl was relaxed as he led his family in to the Royal Palace for a private dinner. The City Lord wanted to make sure they were in good condition following the attack, and such an event was the best way. The timing was also convenient for Prowl. It was as close to alone with Lord Blastoff as he would manage in such a short time. However, it would not do to bring it up too early in the dinner.

Jazz, true to form, was being a very proud and chatty tour guide to them all, but especially for Lord Zyphra. He pointed out who artists were, gave histories of what lord had acquired what and how and generally showed off his knowledge of the palace contents while shamelessly physically flirting with Prowl. That continued all the way to the smaller, private dinning room where Lord Blastoff was seated.

"It is good to see for myself that no ill came of the riot," Blastoff said as he rose to greet them.

"Thank you, my Lord," Prowl replied, bowing. "You had the guards well-trained for the event. This is my carrier, Zyphra, and my older brother, Flashdrive."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Blastoff," Zyphra bowed along with Flashdrive. "Prowl has spoken very well your hospitality."

Though Blastoff didn't show much, all three noted his pleasure at the statement as they were seated.

"Other than the excitement, I hope you have enjoyed your stay so far," Blastoff said as the first course, a brightly flavored solar low-grade, was served.

"Protihex has been proving a wonderful city to visit, my lord," Flashdrive replied. "There are many attractions to see, and shops to visit. Jazz and Lander have both been informative guides."

"Good," Blastoff nodded, his gaze lingering on his breeder, taking in Jazz's condition for himself as the silver minibot stroked Prowl's sensor wings. "I expect nothing less of them. Jazz is performing as before?" he shifted focus to Prowl.

"He is still beyond compare," Prowl purred in reply, one hand sliding up Jazz's side. "If anything, I appreciate him all the more."

"Good," Blastoff actually smiled at Jazz as the minibot trilled softly in pleasure, though it was a subtle look. "I would be truly displeased if he were permanently harmed. The mech who stole him has been captured if you wish to attend the execution."

"Thank you for the invitation, my Lord," Prowl began carefully. "I am glad that justice will be done. However, I personally would prefer to continue to celebrate Jazz's safe return." Jazz's low purr and nuzzle of Prowl's neck left no doubt exactly what that meant.

Blastoff chuckled. "I understand. He is quite the addictive little creature."

"I have become more efficient in my work simply to be able to spend more time with him," Prowl agreed, tilting his helm slightly to give Jazz more room. The silver mech took advantage of it to nibble Prowl's neck, his fingers becoming more playful as the next course was served. It was Jazz and Prowl's favorite to share; fingerling confections.

Blastoff chuckled, an amused smile crossing his features as he watched the interplay.

"We have been discussing buying Jazz for Prowl," Zyphra opened the subject.

Blastoff immediately turned serious. "I do not sell my breeders, especially not so young."

"That is what we had heard," Prowl acknowledged, sending reassurance through his field to Jazz. "However, there is very little that cannot be bought with the... _correct_ offer."

Blastoff's optics narrowed on the new ambassador. "Exactly what do you have to offer than could be worth Jazz?"

"There is a certain law of the Lord Prime's that the Senate has passed. A law that I am sure you do not want to come under scrutiny for." Prowl met his gaze calmly, seemingly unfazed.

Optics narrowed further and Jazz tensed, nearly frozen in terror.

"I see," Blastoff said slowly. "You would prefer him and his kin deactivated if you can not own him."

"If you wish to take permanent action in dealing with the law, then why take the route of least profit?" Prowl tilted his helm. "We are willing to both purchase slaves and sign a contract shielding you from any kin-rights. In addition, if we sign such a contract, you are once more in no danger of appearing on the radar of the Prime's enforcers."

"Answer a question for me first," Blastoff settled his chin on his hands, staring at Prowl. "How did you learn of the connection?"

While Jazz didn't appear to react, Prowl was close enough to him to feel the terror rolling off him in frantic waves.

"I was already familiar with the Royal Code for the Lord of Praxus," Prowl explained. "While interfacing with Jazz, I saw he had a spark code that was similar. Once I realized he had a royal code, it was only a simple search in the records of the Library of Iacon to determine what City Lord he was related to, and from there it was basic elimination of candidates." Prowl kept his gaze level with Blastoff's.

Without a word, Blastoff's gaze shifted to Jazz, and suddenly Jazz forgot all about Prowl. He trembled, terrified, and pressed against Prowl, using the larger mech as a shield of sorts.

"I told him, My Lord, when he confronted me," Jazz's voice shook. "All of it."

The scowl Blastoff gave Jazz was telling, but he shifted focus back to Prowl. "How many of them do you intend to buy?"

"We are willing to purchase the whole clade." Prowl pushed calmness and reassurance through his field to Jazz, doing his best to ease the minibot's fear even though he couldn't physically comfort him.

"If their connection to me is discovered, it would ruin your House financially," Blastoff pointed out, his gaze shifting to Zyphra.

"Yes, which gives us very good reason to deny it should be we asked," he pointed out. "We are willing to tie our fortunes to keeping this secret."

"All so your youngest can have the plaything of his choice?" Blastoff didn't sound mocking, but the disbelief was there.

Prowl suppressed the urge to growl and flare his wings defensively at the way Blastoff referred to Jazz. Instead, he forced his expression to remain impassive as his carrier replied.

"So my youngest may bond with the mech of his choice, Lord Blastoff," Zyphra corrected. "We are a merchant House. The extra hands will earn their keep among us."

"Not all of them," Blastoff pointed out. "Three are in stasis, insane."

"They are still part of the clade," Prowl replied. "Such ties are important to us."

Blastoff hummed thoughtfully. "So you would buy and sign kin-contracts for one sparkling, four younglings, two breeder mechlings, two immature breeders, two mature, healthy breeders and three mature breeders in medical stasis."

"Yes," Zyphra said firmly.

Blastoff leaned back and considered the three Praxians and one very stressed young slave. He allowed silence to reign as he slowly ate a few small confections while he thought.

Prowl waited calmly, not allowing the City Lord's pace to threaten him. He continued to push reassurance through his field to Jazz, trying to calm him. It didn't help much for the agitation in Jazz's field, but the silver mech did lean into him, appreciating the effort.

"Two hundred and seventy three million for all fourteen," Blastoff said.

"We will accept that price," Prowl replied after a nigh-invisible movement of Zyphra's wing panels.

Physically, Jazz didn't react, but the field tightly intertwined with Prowl's flowed with shock, confusion and a new kind of fear. The same kind as when they asked Jazz about freedom in the garden. Intense fear of the unknown, unsafe ... of being lost and abandoned. On its heals was a struggle to contain it, logic it down, but it was too deep seated to respond to such things. Prowl did his best to counter it, sending feelings of reassurance and safety through his field to him.

Blastoff raised an optic ridge in surprise, but said nothing. "The paperwork will be prepared after lunch. Filing will be complete by tomorrow night."

"Thank you. The funds will be ready to transfer by morning," Zyphra inclined his helm. "Was the riot an unusual event?"

"Quite unusual," Blastoff nodded. "I am sure there was outside influence, particularly given the Praxian Embassy was targeted and Jazz stolen. Neither are logical targets for native unrest."

"Whomever organized it risked a lot by targeting Jazz," Prowl added. "A simple group of discontent workers would not risk so much."

"Particularly with so little to gain," Blastoff agreed. "A slave, even one as valuable to me as Jazz, is not a good political bargaining chip and carries a far higher penalty than kidnapping one of you."

"Do you have any ideas who would attempt such an attack?" Zyphra asked, now planning to defend his kin-to-be.

"I would begin with those who have been very upset with my refusal to sell in the past," Blastoff shrugged a broad shuttle wing. "Lord Shockwave of Hive City and Lord Straxus of Kaon. Both have the wealth, contacts and desire to attempt this."

"Lord Straxus is very direct," Prowl pointed out. "He has very little patience for the amount of secrecy it would take to hide his own involvement. Lord Shockwave is much more thoughtful in his actions."

"He was also _much_ more persistent in his desire for _Jazz_ ," Blastoff said evenly. "Lord Straxus was agreeable to any breeder. We settled on the technology to create one. He still desired Jazz, but did not press the point as Shockwave did. I do not have any proof, for all my agents have tried."

"If it was Lord Shockwave, then I doubt there will be any to find." Prowl allowed his hand to slide back and take Jazz's. "The only way we will know it's him is that no one else would theoretically be able to accomplish it."

"Which is still not enough proof to bring him to trial," Blastoff said with clear displeasure. "Unless one of the lesser mechs that have been captured from the attempt implicates him, which is doubtful. It seems unlikely that they know anything useful."

"It is likely that the only ones whom knew if Lord Shockwave was involved stayed away from anyone that was at risk of being captured." Prowl frowned, also upset that they would not know for sure. If Jazz truly was the target, freeing him, even bonding to him, was unlikely to be enough to protect him.

"Agreed," Blastoff nodded. "It is only sensible. I will forward anything pertinent my investigation uncovers, as he will be your kin soon."

"Thank you," Zyphra said, inclining his helm.

Soon the final course of the meal was presented, as the conversation wound its way to less stressful subjects.

* * *

The three Praxians took in the slave quarters of the royal palace. Prowl for the second time, his carrier and brother for the first. Though this time they were moving under guard as part of the enhanced security Lord Blastoff provided for them and his breeders.

Prowl allowed one arm to wrap around Jazz as they walked, attempting to soothe the still-agitated mech with his fields. ::I love you,:: he crooned over private comm. ::I want to take care of you.::

::I believe you,:: Jazz replied, leaning against him. ::Be prepared for the same reaction I had, have. It's a scary idea.::

::I will be,:: Prowl replied, passing the warning on to his carrier and brother. ::It is part of why we are all going. As the highest ranking clade member present, Carrier will be able to provide the most reassurance.::

Jazz nodded, trembling as he struggled to keep himself under control. The slave code finally helped him calm down when the door was in sight and Jazz stepped forward to open it. He trill-whistled softly in greeting and several voices responded.

"Lord Blastoff wishes you to meet your new owners. The transfer of ownership will occur within two orns," a guard announced, then stepped aside to allow the Praxians entry.

Prowl led his family in. "Sequence, Dart," Prowl greeted the two senior members of the breeder clade. "This is my carrier, Lord Zyphra, and my second older brother, Lord Flashdrive."

The pair glanced at each other, then bowed deeply. "Masters."

"Lord Zyphra, did you purchase the entire clade?" Sequence asked submissively.

"Yes," Zyphra answered smoothly, motioning for everyone to take a seat. "If you would send the youngsters away, I would discuss a few things with those old enough to interface."

"Of course, Master," Dart bowed low and turned to ensure the youngest members of the clade were sequestered in the back rooms.

"May we offer refreshments?" Sequence asked as he commed those who were with lovers elsewhere. "Vale and Echo are coming."

"Yes, please," Zyphra inclined his helm. "Are you aware of the slavery laws of Praxus?"

"It is banned, Master," Leaf said as he settled on the floor in front of one couch while Sequence motioned the Praxians to sit on a different one. Prowl glanced at Jazz as he sat, to see if the silver minibot would sit near him or with his kin.

"Yes," Zyphra inclined his helm, also watching as Jazz settled next to Sequence's pedes in his place as an immature adult. "That means that any slave taken into Praxus is freed by law."

"They're signing a kin-contract for us," Jazz spoke up, though he refused to lift his gaze from the floor. "We'll be part of their clade. Even those in stasis."

A stunned silence settled across the room. Eventually Sequence sank into a chair. "What will we do, Lord Zyphra?"

"We have businesses that are in a good position to be expanded," Zyphra replied. "We have not had enough clade members to expand them before now."

"So we are to be pleasurebots, Lord Zyphra?" Sequence asked, uncertain.

"Absolutely not," Zyphra countered firmly. "We have businesses in Praxian crystals, both live and as ornaments, and in soft metal textiles. Roles for our clade are primarily of an administrative nature, unless individuals are interested enough to take on other duties in addition."

"None of us have any skills of that nature, Master," Sequence said quietly, shamefully, using all his will and the slave code to hold himself together for the good of his clade. Leaf wasn't doing nearly as good a job and quivered as he pressed close to Jazz, who whispered something, trying to sooth. It didn't seem to help the mechling much.

Zyphra softened at that. "Nor would we place you in a position that you would flounder. It is expected that you would need training, support, and advice to get through the transition. And some skills you already have can translate in surprising ways to the business world. For instance, the ability to be able to read the mechs you are dealing with is highly valuable."

That made all four of slaves exchange confused looks, which ended up focusing on Jazz, who turned to focus on Zyphra. Despite the otpic band hiding half his faceplates, the silver mech's expression was clear: what are you talking about?

"Lord Zyphra, we don't understand," Jazz spoke up.

"A buyer has to be able to read the mech selling to him to get the best deal. A seller does best when they can quickly determine what a client wants and to give them a pleasant buying experience. A manager who can read the way his workers interact and deal with them accordingly to keep them satisfied with their jobs has the best sustainable productivity," Prowl explained. "In all cases the business benefits from the ability to read others."

"While we can easily afford to take you all in, you will be expected to contribute," Zyphra continued. "We will work with you in order to place you best and make sure you do well, but it will require you to work with _us_ as well."

"Of course, Master," Sequence managed. "We will do what is needed."

Jazz finally looked up at Prowl, if only briefly. ::Please don't remove the slave code, not yet. It's the only thing keeping the panic at bay.::

The door slid open for Vale and Echo, who immediately went tense at the mood in the room, then cautiously joined their kin.

::It is not my decision to make,:: Prowl replied regretfully. ::I will pass that it on.::

::I understand,:: Jazz murmured, his fear beginning to show. ::They need me tonight, please.::

::Of course. I want you and your family to be able to face this calmly and confidently. Change, no matter for ill or gain, is always something feared. Just remember I love you and we will do our best by you and your kin.:: Prowl's gaze lingered on Jazz as the two latecomers were quietly brought up to speed on the events of the day. As sad as it was to Prowl, their reactions were predictably distressed.

"Master Zyphra ... do you have all the information and technology needed for breeders?" Sequence finally asked.

"We do not," Zyphra replied.

"All those with upgrades to go will have those upgrades be with as little interference as possible," Prowl added gently.

A wave of confusion swept through the breeders, but it was Leaf who found his voice first.

"We ... I won't be a breeder, master?"

"You won't, Leaf," Prowl replied softly. "You'll be allowed to upgrade to the frame size your spark wants, rather than have one forced on you. And we will not ask the mature adults to continually produce sparklings."

The _panic_ that crashed though the adults, no matter how quickly suppressed, was depressing to the Praxians.

"How ... how many will we have, Master Prowl?" Jazz was the one to ask, his voice trembling as he gave voice to the question they all had.

"There is no set number," Zyphra replied, keeping his voice kind. "It depends on what you and your partners decide, the number you wish to care for. Remember, these will be _your_ sparklings, that you will be able to care for and raise just as I have done for Flashdrive, Prowl, and their brothers. It will be something for you to do because you want to, not a part of your job."

Something clicked for Jazz, and as shocked as he looked, he also calmed somewhat. He looked up at Sequence and Dart. "We have as many as we can raise. Every sparkling will be clade. None taken away."

Flickers of confusion chased understanding, but it seemed that Jazz translated it well enough for them.

"That is it exactly," Zyphra added, approving that they were starting to understand. "We will _all_ be clade. What other concerns do you have?"

The adults glanced between each other.

"When will we leave for Praxus, Master Zyphra?" Sequence asked submissively.

"Three to four orns should provide enough time for arrangements," Zyphra replied. "I am sure Lord Blastoff will be upset if we stay a decaorn or more. Jazz will be staying with Prowl for the remainder of his term, however."

Several nods of understanding greeted that as programming and basic slave survival culture kicked in to have them accept what was happening.

"What will happen to those in stasis, Master Zyphra?" Dart asked quietly. "They are completely insane. All they can do is produce new sparks."

"We will speak to the medics back home to see if there is anything that they can do for them, especially since we will not be seeking to preserve their ability as breeders," Zyphra said. "We will do what we can, and care for them as best we are able. Specifics will depend on how bad off they are, and what the medics will be able to do."

"Thank you, master," Dart said quietly. "We will do our best to earn what we need to."

::As good as it'll get for a while,:: Jazz commed Prowl quickly. ::Culture shock ... it'll be hard for a while.::

"Be sure to let me know when you have concerns. I want to help you through this." Zyphra stood and moved closer, reaching to take a hand each from Dart and Sequence and give them a squeeze.

::I understand,:: Prowl replied. ::The great difference between the two positions guarantees that it will not be easy, but we will do what we can.::

"Yes, master Zyphra," Sequence assured him. "We will serve you well."

Prowl motioned his brother to follow as Zyphra stood to leave the breeder clade to discuss this in private, and no doubt grill Jazz for all he knew. The three traveled in absolute silence until they reached the Praxian Embassy, then Prowl's library where Prowl poured a cube of high grade for each of them.

"That was easily the creepiest, most disturbing reaction I have ever seen," Flashdrive admitted as he accepted the cube, then stared at it. "Makes me wish Sideswipe hadn't gone home yet. He understands this kind of thing a lot better."

"We are changing everything about their lives that they know," Prowl replied before taking a long drink from his own cube. "It is understandable to be scared when your whole life changes suddenly. Also, they had many fears based on stories that would not apply to them but that they cannot shake."

"That business about being tossed out on the street to fend for themselves?" Flashdrive shuddered at the very idea.

"Yes, as well as the idea that we would prostitute them," Prowl added, wings drooping.

"How does Sideswipe understand this so much better?" Zyphra asked his older creation.

Flashdrive sighed. "He's dealt in slaves. Not often, and not since we got together, but enough that he understands this on a level I doubt we ever will."

"Hopefully we will be able to help them transition into their new lives," Prowl said quickly, wanting to head off any negative response from their creator at that revelation.

"We will," Zyphra considered Flashdrive's profile. "I am beginning to understand why the slave and anti-slave cities have such difficulties," he admitted. "Until a joor ago I couldn't believe every mech wouldn't prefer to be free. Those mechs ... Jazz's clade ... they did not want our help, their freedom."

"They do not, can not understand," Prowl replied softly. "The best way to keep slaves is to make them happy to be slaves. They are conditioned that way by both programming and culture. They see the life they have as being privileged in its own way. They have a guarantee of food, medical care, shelter... And are convinced that being free means they will lose all of that. No matter _how_ they are freed."

"The thing is, it's true in most cases," Flashdrive said very quietly, his optics locked on his high grade. "Sideswipe gave me a crash course as best he could before he left. Owners _are_ required to care for their slaves, just as we're required to care for our creations. Once freed, no one has to care for them. Some are freed like we're doing, to join a clade, but most ... they're just turned out because no one owns them anymore. It's ... intentional," he shuddered. "A practical way to reinforce the belief that slaves are better off as slaves."

Prowl shuddered as well. "And most will not hire former slaves, so they have to make their living in other ways."

"Either stealing or selling interfaces ... or even themselves back into slavery," Flashdrive nodded. "I hope Jazz can calm them down, make them understand we won't do that."

"I hope so too. I was pressing on him that we wouldn't. I think he understood and accepted it, even if the fear was hard to push away." Prowl's wings twitched.

"We will simply keep reinforcing that they will not be abandoned," Zyphra said firmly. "They are not the first foundlings this clade had taken in. They will not be the last. They will be a valuable addition to our numbers and we will teach them they are valuable to us for more than creating sparklings, or even the work they do in the business. We will teach them so they can teach their creations."

Prowl and Flashdrive nodded in agreement, and they settled in for their high grade, quiet talk and trying to prepare themselves for what was to come.

It was very similar to the scene being played out in the breeder quarters.

Neither group of mechs expected to recharge much.


	13. Painful Discussions

Jazz had reluctantly left his clade, his cadre, his kin, in the early dawn. He'd done all he could to explain, to reassure, and the mood was getting better. Still, it would be some time and a lot of experience before Sequence and Dart would completely settle.

He simply prayed to Primus that Prowl managed to convince his creator not to remove the slave code. At least not yet. Kesh and the younglings would adapt quickly to the loss. Their existence wouldn't be that dramatically affected. But for himself, for the mechs and mechlings, the loss of the only way they had to cope with trauma was a terrifying prospect. He wasn't sure any of them would last long without it so quickly, so suddenly.

With nods and fake smiles for those he passed as he entered the Praxian Embassy, Jazz made his way to Prowl's suite, his processors putting himself in a state to wake his master ... his lover ... with enough pleasure to stop any questions for a time. He slipped into the suite silently, his sensors passively scanning for who was there and what they were doing. Prowl was in his berth with the lights off, though by the quiet sounds from his frame he sounded like he was still awake.

Jazz frowned to himself but plastered a smile and warm welcome on and walked into the berthroom to greet his lover, and judge his state better.

Prowl smiled when he powered up his optics and saw Jazz. Quietly, he reached out to him, inviting his lover to join him on the berth. Jazz smiled in return and sat on the berth, then snuggled against Prowl.

"Morning lover. You're awake very early," Jazz murmured, his hands running along Prowl's plating.

"Couldn't recharge," Prowl admitted, his own hands rubbing Jazz's back. "Everyone settled for the moment?" Prowl was under no illusions that Jazz's kin would be happy and ready to go.

"Yes, everyone's calmed down," Jazz nodded and snuggled close. "Why couldn't you recharge? Was your creator angry?"

"Not angry. We had discussed that it might come to this." Prowl nuzzled Jazz's cheek. "Just worried for you and your kin, and how difficult it is for you." Prowl placed kisses over his face. "As hard as it is, there is some good to celebrate." The Praxian smiled softly at his lover. "Lord Blastoff won't be able to separate us."

Jazz purred and revved sharply at that, very honestly pleased. "And he can't decided what will happen to your sparkling," Jazz added, reaching up for a kiss. "I know that troubled you."

"Yes," Prowl replied, kissing Jazz, his field pleased to have his lover close with nothing to keep them apart. "Its fate is in _our_ hands. But I don't want to discuss it at this moment..." He deepened the kiss, hands teasing Jazz's sides.

That was a choice Jazz was eager to agree with. His field flared eagerly, the arousal coming fast and honest. Without being asked, all his interface panels clicked open, offering valve, spike and hardlines. His chest unlocked too, though didn't part yet.

"So beautiful," Prowl whispered. He rolled them over, pressing Jazz into the berth as he kissed his way down Jazz's neck to his chest. His hands stroked down the silver form, until one was stroking Jazz's spike and the other was teasing his valve.

Jazz could only moan in reply. His legs spread further apart, his hands stroked Prowl's neck and his chest plates began to part. He offered Prowl everything, greedily hoping for it all.

Prowl sank his cables into Jazz's ports just before he began to lick at the parting seam in his chest, moving in to kiss that beloved spark chamber. His hands weren't idle either, working Jazz's spike and valve in time with the movements of his mouth. He barely had time to brace himself for the joint spike/valve overload that made Jazz cry out, clinging to Prowl without shame, adoration for Prowl shining brightly in his field and across the hardline.

Prowl poured his love through the hardline and his field as he worshiped Jazz's spark casing with his mouth. He thrust his fingers in his lover's valve hard and fast, matching the pace with his hand on the other's spike. The Praxian's wings twitched in pleasure, determined to make Jazz's first overloads fast and complete.

It was an effort Jazz had no desire to resist and with a few pulses from Prowl over the hardline, he crashed over the edge again from Prowl's mouth and pulses.

Prowl hummed against the casing, easing up on the touches to Jazz's spike and valve to pull him through the overload. He smiled as Jazz began to relax until him, engine purring and vocalizer humming contented static.

~I like this mood of yours,~ Jazz purred, still hazy with pleasure.

~You do, hmmm?~ Prowl purred in reply, moving up to kiss Jazz. He released his spike and slowly sank it into his lover's overload-lax valve. It quickly tightened, wrapping Prowl's spike in ripples of pleasure.

As much as Prowl wanted to sink his spark into the over-large spark displayed so willingly under him, he took a moment to admire it. Sky blue with a silver sheen, Jazz's spark was contained in a chamber that took up nearly a third of his chassis. When he focused, Prowl could even see a glimpse of the tiny new spark he had created as it orbited, zipping around the nebulous outer half of Jazz's spark.

"So beautiful," Prowl groaned again, kissing Jazz deeply as his own chest plates began to separate. He felt Jazz's spark energy the moment that outer shielding parted, even before his chamber slid forward and began to spiral open.

He felt Jazz's barely-contained fear, pain, acceptance that was only just hanging on and filled him with love, safety, and reassurance before the pleasure washed them away. Prowl cried out as energy built between them, being looped between their bodies by hardline, spark, and the spike moving in the valve.

With neither mech resisting, both _wanting_ , the overload roared to its pinnacle without hesitation, washing all thoughts away in the shared pleasure that brought relief.

Despite all that, Prowl felt the tiny spark orbiting Jazz's greedily absorb as much of his spark energy as it could.

Prowl continued to kiss Jazz as they came down from the overload, unwilling to pull back as they came back to themselves. Despite Jazz's obvious effort, Prowl was still privy to the troubled emotions that tumbled back to the fore of the minibot's processors.

It was only when Jazz was fully recovered that he managed to bury the distress fully.

~Love you,~ Prowl whispered across their sparks, trying to surround Jazz with the feeling of being cherished and cared for. The smaller mech soaked it up, needing it, wanting it, desperately latching onto the support to help suppress his fears.

~What is it you're still afraid of, love?~ Prowl asked quietly.

Instead of words, images came.

Sequence, kneeling in a room Prowl didn't know, but recognized as a hospital of some sort. Three graying forms, all minibots, lay on the tables.

Pride and grief mingled as Sequence was shot in the spark, executed.

Watching the younger mechs of his clade grow up, Jazz doing his part to turn them away from their own cadre and to Prowl's House, so the giants might have a normal functioning.

Dart's execution after Leaf's death.

Jazz accepting the leadership of a cadre of two. Functioning too long for his own good. The pain he would cause Prowl when he finally faded.

Prowl trembled, his arms tightening around Jazz. ~Why do you think that will happen?~

~Their duty, the law,~ Jazz answered simply, his mind-voice dull. ~Only Primus can heal those who can't take being a breeder. It's still murder to send them to Him.~

~Jazz, Jazz,~ Prowl murmured sadly, trying to wrap his lover in comfort. ~ _None_ of you will be breeders anymore. Leaf won't be driven insane. We will do everything we can for the other three. We want _all_ of you to be a part of our clade, not just the little ones.~

~The youngsters are the only ones who won't be breeders,~ Jazz murmured, struggling to make Prowl understand. ~I am what I am. Even if you never let me have another sparkling I'm still a breeder. It's my programming, what I was raised to be. Unless you wipe us clean to start over.~

~It doesn't have to be _all_ you are. You can still learn, expand yourself.~ Prowl was trying to understand, but also to help Jazz realize that he had many more opportunities open to him now.

~Prowl ... lover ... no one can change _this_ ,~ he opened up memories, recent ones, of just what being a breeder _meant_. Not the expectations, but the physical realities of having a spark so much larger than your frame needed. The constant need to interface, the _pain_ when denied for more than a few joor, the programming stolen from pleasurebots to manage it at least a little. The things that couldn't be changed. ~No matter what I become, this will always be what I am.~

Prowl accepted the memories, processor whirling. ~We can ask the medics back home if there is anything that can be done to ease the pain. The medics here would say there is nothing, but they would also be trying to keep your value as breeders. There are different priorities now, including your comfort.~

~Perhaps,~ Jazz accepted the intention, and anything that might come of it. ~Has Zyphra decided what will happen to the new spark?~

~The decision is _ours_ , my love. Carrier will support whatever we decide. But I want you to be able to chose without the slave programming influencing you.~ Prowl nuzzled his cheek, pressing close.

~What does the coding have to do with it?~ Jazz's fear spiked sharply, pushing him right to the edge of full-out panic.

~Calm, love, calm.~ Prowl pushed calmness into Jazz's spark, trying to prevent him from panicking. ~I'm afraid it would push you into a decision that you would later regret. I know what I would wish for, but I am also not the one who would carry the burden of the risk.~

~Why remove the coding?~ Jazz was completely focused now, and every relay in his processors was screaming at how bad it would be without the coding. He didn't want to extinguish that way. ~You don't know....~

Instead of replying verbally, Prowl instead tried to show Jazz his own processors and experiences, what it was like living without the slave coding. Memories of a happy younglinghood, pleasure at exceeding the expectations of his creators and brothers. As a mechling, where there were occasional spots of discontent, but were far outshone by the good times with his family and teachers. As an adult doing work for his family, with lovers (not all of whom were approved of, but none of them were regretted). A life just as full of happiness, but without any programming reinforcing it.

Jazz took it in and went still for a while before focusing on showing Prowl exactly what he wanted to keep. The core of the slave code, not what demanded obedience, he really hadn't interacted with it all that much and knew how to get around it easily enough. What Jazz was terrified to lose was the code he felt the effects of every orn. The code that worked so hard to keep him happy when he was hurting. The very frightening understanding that he had no skills to cope with that pain; he'd never needed them.

~We can ask, see if they can leave that piece and that alone, in your programming. And even if they cannot, I would help you learn to cope. We all would.~ Prowl nuzzled him and showed him what he feared in the coding. The absolute obedience it required, even when what was being asked repulsed the one with the coding. That the coding forced a certain attitude about the sparklings he carried on Jazz, that it only allowed for one possible option until he matured.

~I'll carry it if you want,~ Jazz said softly. ~I know the dangers. I know the odds. I don't think it's a good idea, but if this new spark is so important to you, I'll carry it to separation.~

~Not just for me, please not just for me,~ Prowl whispered, trembling. He showed Jazz his own conflict, how he didn't want to lose their sparkling--and that was how he truly thought of it--but he also felt like he didn't have a right to make Jazz take that high of a risk.

~You ... don't want to be considered ... but you asked me to keep it,~ now Jazz was just confused. ~Why is _this_ one so important? I can give you _hundreds_ of sparklings, safely, once my spark matures.~

~Sometimes, even my spark can defy all logic,~ Prowl whispered. ~Intellectually, I understand all the arguments in favor of waiting, but my spark still sees this one as ours to cherish and raise. I also know intellectually that it is easier to chose the riskier option when I am not the one bearing the risk. I would like to try to keep the sparkling, but I do not want to remove your ability to say that the risk is too great.~

~The worst that can happen is I end up being a twin with this new spark, which has the side effect of dramatically reducing my ability to kindle,~ Jazz shrugged. ~The new spark has more risks of not forming right that I do of being seriously damaged. I still don't understand why _this_ one matters to you so much. It's not _alive_ yet.~

Instead of trying to verbalize a response so deep-seated in his spark, he gently tugged on Jazz's awareness to bring it into his own. To show him where cultural upbringing and the emotions of his spark merged, bringing him to view each newspark as alive, a feeling too deep to be influenced by what medics and the high priests said. While he could accept that others did not view newsparks in the same way, he could not change his own views and would mourn any kin newspark that ceased to be, no matter how young.

~Then we'll keep it,~ Jazz said softly, offering his own neutral feelings on the matter. He grieved the new sparks he had ended, but he accepted it as part of his existence, the price of the pleasure he enjoyed. ~And after it separates I'll have my spark chamber sealed until my spark matures.~

~Thank you,~ Prowl whispered, love and adoration surging in his spark. ~As much as I enjoy feeling you like this, perhaps it's best that we don't risk another newspark while yours is still maturing.~ He covered Jazz's face in kisses.

~It'll be good to have anyway, since you don't intend to constantly breed me,~ Jazz said, accepting the mild grief the thought of no longer merging sparks brought him. ~Mature or not, every merge is likely to produce one.~

~We'll have time to work with medics, to try to find a way that would lessen the likelihood of creating newsparks,~ Prowl replied, nuzzling him.

Jazz's spark began to withdraw, pushing Prowl's spark away at the same time. The minibot had had enough, too much, of the intimacy. Firewalls came up, shielding his processors from casual access by the hardline. Shielding Prowl from the overwhelming grief at the loss of a functioning that had its issues, but even with the coding accounted for, Jazz was largely content with. Grief at the loss of a form of pleasure he enjoyed greatly. Fear at being _responsible_ for raising a sparkling when he was barely more than a mechling himself. Renewed grief that he would soon be the leader of his cadre, likely before he was a full adult. Grief at the end of a culture his clade had been the guardians of for a hundred generations and more.

He didn't want to try and explain any more.

He desperately wanted to go back to his cadre, to being the young mech he was, not the responsible adult he had to be out here and would soon have to be everywhere.

Instead he focused on pulling excess energy from his spark, pulling up pleasurebot protocols, and kiss Prowl hotly.

Interfacing until they shut down was a good second option to going home.

Prowl shuddered as he felt Jazz pull away from him completely. "Jazz, Jazz!" he whispered desperately, optics going wide, hurt that Jazz was pulling away, guessing that Jazz was hurting too and hurt that he couldn't reassure him.

He had messed up, and he feared that he had damaged the most important relationship of his adult life beyond repair.

"Shu, it's okay," Jazz tried to still his protests with gentle hands and kisses. "I can have some privacy, yes?"

"Of course," Prowl whispered, still trembling. "I don't want to lose you..."

"I'm not going anywhere, Prowl," Jazz said seriously as he reached for Prowl's wings and squeezed his valve around the softening spike still inside him.

"You could," Prowl whispered, hugging Jazz tightly. "You're hurting and nothing I can do helps." He buried his face in Jazz's neck.

"You can leave too," Jazz pointed out quietly. "You can be ordered to leave."

"Sire and Carrier would not order me to leave someone I felt so strongly about. And even if they tried, I would defy them for you. I love you so much..." He trembled at the admission.

"Then there's nothing to worry about," Jazz murmured and tried to kiss Prowl again, this time softer and resigned to the mood of the room.

Prowl returned the kiss softly, shifting so that they were laying on their sides, curled up together. "I want this to work... With us, with our families..."

"There's no reason it won't," Jazz told him as he snuggled against the larger frame. "If your creators don't separate us, I don't intend to leave you, you have nothing to worry about."

"And our families?" he asked softly. "You showed me your worries for what would happen with your kin. I don't want that to come to pass, that they would die... We have more opportunities to try to help those in stasis..."

Jazz let a long x-vent escape. "Prowl, they are _insane_. They can't handle the constant arousal and needs being a breeder comes with, they can't stand _existing_ as they are. Only Primus can help mechs that far gone. The sooner they extinguish, the sooner they'll be out of pain."

"Even if a medic can find a way to ease the constant arousal?" Prowl whispered. "Even if they are never truly sane, if we could give them a chance to be able to live safely outside of stasis... I do not want to write them off until we've had a chance..."

"It's not our choice to make," Jazz pointed out, trying to be gentle. "Those choices are for the clade leaders, not us. Not yet at least. I don't want to lose my elders, but it's for the best. Life ... Prowl, death isn't a bad thing. The spark goes to Primus, is healed and cared for. It's better than anything a frame can offer."

"Our clades are merging, Jazz," Prowl reminded, equally gently. "If their fate is up to the clade leaders, then legally it will be my creators' responsibility to make the decision, not Sequence and Dart's. And my creators would exhaust every possibility to give them a chance at life."

"I know," Jazz couldn't keep the grief from his voice. "It won't stop my clade's elders from doing the right thing, or willingly paying the price for their actions."

"Can you at least convince them to give my creators a chance to help? Sometimes what seems to be the right thing on the surface isn't." Prowl rubbed Jazz's back, hugging him close.

"I don't know," Jazz murmured. "Every elder has been wanting to do this for our kin since the clade formed. They touch their sparks. They share what it's like for them. It's hard to want to curse anyone to a moment longer of that existence than I have to. I want my brother to be at peace."

"Carrier will want to hear their views," Prowl murmured. "We just don't want them to take drastic steps to help bring peace to your brother and the other two. None of us want them to have a tortured existence." He placed a soft kiss on Jazz's helm.

"I have a question that I wish you would think about. It is not one that requires a reply right away." He paused a moment, and then continued. "I realized something when you were showing me the laws on slavery. Your knowledge, your skills, are far beyond what a slave is supposed to have. You did not allow being a breeder slave to define what you could and did learn. Why are you and your kin insisting on allowing it to be the sole definition of what you can be?" Prowl fell silent after that, rubbing Jazz's back, but clearly not expecting a reply.

"Because no matter what we learn, it will be the _core_ of our existence," Jazz said quietly, the answer coming easily. "We'll always have this condition, this spark to frame discrepancy and its effects. Like you'll always be a Praxian, no matter where you live."

Prowl frowned slightly, but hugged Jazz tighter instead of replying. He had hoped his lover would take the time to try to understand what he had been getting at. However, he did not have the emotional stamina to run through another round of difficult conversation, and he suspected Jazz was in a similar state.

"I'm sorry," Jazz mumbled. "Recharge?" he suggested weakly. "It's been a rough orn for both of us."

"Alright," Prowl agreed quietly. "It has been." He curled up around his smaller lover protectively as they both slipped into fitful recharge.


	14. On Freedom and Coding

The orn was over half-gone by the time Prowl emerged from his suite to go speak to his carrier. He and Jazz had interfaced upon rousing from their recharge cycles with little foreplay or true enjoyment of it. Prowl was too keenly aware that this was a need of Jazz's frame, not of the silver mech's emotions, and Jazz still to distressed to want more. They'd both been unusually quiet while cleaning up, unwilling just yet to rehash the conversations that had been so painful that morning. Now Jazz was off to spend more time with his kin while they were still in the same city, giving Prowl time to himself to see his carrier.

He pressed the chime for admittance when he reached Zyphra's suite, and was immediately admitted.

::In the library, dear,:: Zyphra commed him.

When he stepped in, his carrier was in a deep and very serious looking conversation with Sideswipe and a mech Prowl didn't know but bore the markings of a high-ranking physician.

"I'm sorry, am I interrupting?" Prowl asked quietly.

"It involves you more than us," Sideswipe shrugged. "Grab a seat and some energon. And keep your Praxian morals as far away from this room as you can manage if you give a damn about your lover."

Prowl did as suggested, selecting a cube and a sitting near enough to be a part of the conversation. "What is the topic?"

"Slave code, slave culture and the safest way to bring them out of it," Sideswipe answered. "Your carrier wants to have all the extra coding removed. It's a death sentence for those mechs you just spent a fortune buying the freedom of. They have _no_ survival skills, not even second hand, for the outside world or how any of us make it through the orn to orn troubles of existing."

"I had my concerns regarding that as well. It is actually why I came to speak with Carrier." Prowl tilted his head. "I had been discussing it with Jazz. He specifically does not seem to interact much with most of the slave coding, but he does lean heavily on the parts that soothe negative emotions. I would suspect that the others lean on it even more."

"They do," the sky blue and pale red medic, Keepsafe by her ID ping, spoke up wearily. "I've cared for thirty-four generations of breeders under Lord Blastoff. Their dependence goes far beyond individual dependence. Their culture since long before I was sparked has incorporated the slave code. This isn't a restrictive bit of viral code you're asking to have removed. It's the foundation of their culture, their cadre, their orn to orn interactions with others. Removing the obedience protocols won't change much. That isn't a bad thing to take out. But the emotional controls, the blocks and forced happiness would be disastrous for the older ones. The younglings and sparklings will adapt. They'll likely be highly destructive, as volatile and uncontrollable as a raging gladiator at first as they encounter emotions they have no grasp of, but with firm care and consistency they'll learn as any youth will. The older ones, those past the stage where they're truly learning how to understand themselves, it will take much longer for them to learn, and I doubt many of them will _want_ to. If they are truly free mechs it should be their right to choose what code to keep and what not to."

Zyphra's wings twitched with obvious displeasure. It was clear that he had expected Prowl, whose culture and morals most closely matched his, would have similar views. "You agree with them, Prowl?"

"They have very good points, Carrier," he replied. "They are already going through many changes. Too many changes too quickly will make it near impossible for them to be able to transition, and our ultimate goal is for them to successfully transition to their new lives. And for them to be truly free...we must accept that they are capable of making informed decisions for themselves, and that includes with their own programming. We can offer our opinions, but for so much we must allow them to chose."

Keepsafe looked utterly relieved and Sideswipe relaxed slightly. The door opened and Flashdrive walked in, his expression grim as he got a databurst to update him before he sat down next to Sideswipe and accepted a cube of mid-grade.

"Exactly how difficult will it be to remove the obedience code and not the emotional code?" Flashdrive asked.

"They're completely separate sets of protocols," Keepsafe answered easily. "Within the context of editing core software, it is relatively simple to remove one and leave the other. It is a dangerous procedure, but given none of them have glitches involving the obedience protocols it should be safe enough if I'm not hurried."

Zyphra sighed, obviously overruled. "Then that is what we will do."

"What about the three in stasis? It is my understanding that they are in bad condition medically." Prowl asked.

Keepsafe vented deeply. "Yes, they are in far worse shape than a normal breeder of comparable age. Their normal functioning is a thousand vorns, five hundred as a full adult. One in stasis is unlikely to last eight hundred vorns, three hundred as a full adult. Their systems do not self-maintain well, carrying is much more straining and their sparks do not wish to stay in their frames in general. Insanity on their level makes it extremely difficult to keep a mech functioning."

"Would there be a way to ease some of the physical systems? Especially in a way that may provide a positive effect on their mental state?" Prowl asked.

"In theory, if a system can be built that drains spark energy as if they were in a much larger frame it would ease most of their physical symptoms," she said cautiously. "It's being in a too-small frame that causes the problems. How much that will help those in stasis ... I honestly do not know. To my knowledge it has never been studied."

"Even the ones who are not in stasis are not unaffected... The discrepancy between frame and spark sizes is very uncomfortable," Prowl commented.

"We have a unique opportunity to study the possibilities, and to help them," Zyphra added. "Would you be willing to accompany us to Praxus, to help with their medical needs?"

Keepsafe smiled at Zyphra, her frame settling in relief. "Yes. I came in hopes of petitioning you to hire me for their care. I know that cadre better than anyone. I believe I can help the youngest adapt more quickly. A friend of mine asked me to create a program that would gradually disable the emotional controls. It is not close to being ready for a live subject, but I expect within a vorn I can have a viable system to wean them off the controls, _if_ it is my primary duty."

Sideswipe perked up sharply. "How long is the weaning cycle?"

"Currently it is projected at a hundred vorn average, but it is highly dependant on the individual," she smiled at him. "The program uses feedback to judge how quickly the mech is adapting. It could take as little as ten for a relatively young or stable mech, but it could take thousands for an older or high strung mech."

Zyphra smiled. "That does sound like a promising program."

"Thank you," Keepsafe said, her tone grateful and relaxing. "As their physician, I do recommend not touching their emotional protocols until the program is prepared. I would honestly recommend treating all the slave code with it, but I can understand why the control code needs to be removed more quickly."

"Just remember that these mechs, the adults at least, will _never_ behave like those raised free," Sideswipe spoke up. "They'll _always_ have a bit of submission in them, some more than others. You can remove the protocols, but not the lessons they taught or the culture these mechs were raised in."

Zyphra nodded. "I will keep that in mind. How damaged are the younger ones likely to be?" He looked around the group.

"Jazz has said that until the mechling upgrades and interface protocols that they are just hyperactive. It is only at the mechling stage that they begin to suffer," Prowl offered.

"That is largely correct," Keepsafe nodded. "The sparkling and youngling stages have almost no interaction outside the slave culture, or even outside the breeder clade. Both groups indulge them and treat them as the adored creations most free mechs consider their creations as. It is only when they become interface active that they will run into the slave code and submission demands as they enter social situations with higher ranking mechs."

"When he first introduced me to his clade, he mentioned that the only outsider the younger ones had been exposed to were medics," Prowl confirmed. "The only issue I can think of is that they are exposed to situations that would not necessarily occur in Praxus."

Zyphra thought a moment, and then asked Keepsafe, "What would the affect of upgrading likely be for the mechlings? I would not wish to continue the practice of forcing them into smaller frames, though I imagine there would be coding conflict when they are suddenly in frames that do not leave them with the expected sensations."

"Since the upgrade to mech would include software upgrades, I can ensure it will be very limited," Keepsafe said with certainty. "Given both Leaf and Vale have many vorns before they upgrade, I expect to be able to educate them on what to expect and what will be different. It will be a shock, but it should not be too difficult. For Leaf it will definitely be a relief. He is not handling being a breeder well. I expected to be required to put him in stasis within a score of vorns of upgrading him to a mech."

"They should be able to choose," Sideswipe said. "Just because _we_ think it's torture and wrong, doesn't mean Vale does."

Prowl nodded in acceptance of Sideswipe's opinion. "If he does make that choice, I would think it would be prudent not to remove as much of the mass."

He sighed and turned to a related topic, "As far as Leaf and the ones in stasis... Jazz shared something with me last night that has me concerned. He seemed certain that Sequence and Dart would go to extreme measures to ensure that the three in stasis were at... peace."

Keepsafe shuttered her optics and seemed to deflate. "There's good reason they aren't allowed to visit those in stasis often, and always under heavy guard and strong orders not to harm anyone. Yes, they will extinguish those in stasis if give any opportunity to."

Zyphra nodded, sadly. "That will need to be accounted for on our trip to Praxus."

"If I may, I recommend a medical transport for those in stasis. I will attend them on the trip," Keepsafe spoke up. "Until I have everything settled and their medical ward secured, perhaps you should keep those not in stasis here in Protihex, at the embassy. It will give them more time with Jazz in a semi-familiar environment, more time to get to know you and your plans."

"I believe Jazz would be pleased to have more time with them as well," Prowl added.

Zyphra thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "An acceptable option."

"Thank you," Keepsafe shifted her attention to Prowl. "I understand Jazz is carrying by you."

Prowl twitched, not expecting the information to have gotten beyond immediate family already. "Yes, he is," he replied softly. "I understand those in the medical community would not condone him attempting to carry to term."

"No," she agreed. "The risks are substantial. If he had been upgraded normally, he would still be in his mechling frame with a hundred and fifty vorns or more to go before he got his mech frame. His _spark_ is that of a mechling, Prowl, no matter what his frame is. It is immature."

Prowl looked down, wings drooping slightly. "We have discussed the risks."

"As cruel as it may seem, there is good reason they are not allowed to carry too young," Keepsafe spoke gently. "The risk of losing the carrier is close to forty percent. In those cases the new spark is also lost in over ninety percent of the time. The chance of the new spark not developing correctly and having lifelong medical problems is nearly twenty percent. The chance the _carrier_ never finishes developing correctly is close to forty percent. Then there's the smaller chance that instead of developing as a complete new spark, it develops into Jazz's twin as well as his creation. That is all with the best medical care that can be provided."

Prowl shivered, wings trembling faintly in distress. "You would have me chose between my lover and my sparkling. I know what is said, that it is not considered truly alive yet, but I cannot help but view it as a living sparkling. To not even give my sparkling a chance to develop and live normally is not a decision I could truly make. In the end, it is also not solely my decision to make. Jazz is the creator at risk, and so he deserves an equal, if not larger, say in the decision."

A low unhappy sound escaped Keepsafe. "I hope you do not regret your choice in the coming vorn. Your family has a physician on staff?"

"Yes," Zyphra nodded, already knowing where this was going.

"Then in good conscious, I can not attend to Jazz's state. It goes against all my oaths as a protector of life. I am sorry."

"I understand," Zyphra nodded. "I will not ask you to break your oaths."

"Thank you," Keepsafe said quietly, openly pained. "I will pray to Primus that it ends well. It is the most I can do for him."

"If there were any sign that it was not going well, I would always chose Jazz," Prowl whispered, still trembling, but wanting for those in the room to understand. "But without that... I can't decide. The issue is too close to my spark for me to properly process it." Zyphra stood and moved to sit beside Prowl to hold him close.

"I understand," Keepsafe said quietly as she stood. "It is an emotional choice for you where it is one of numbers, odds and patient health for me."

Flashdrive gave Sideswipe a nudge, silently asking him to leave.

The red merchant's engine rumbled, highly displeased, but settled with a private comm and left with the doctor.

Prowl whimpered as he pressed in close to his creator, his trembling even more pronounced after he was alone with kin. Flashdrive sat on his other side and pressed close, shielding Prowl's sensor wings with his own.

"I never though one of us becoming a creator would be such a troubling time," Flashdrive murmured. "What a horrible choice to be forced into."

"Jazz had the final word in the decision," Prowl whispered, his face pressed into his carrier's armor. "I showed him my own views and conflict, but I made sure to make it clear that I would accept his choice, whatever it was."

"Bro..." Flashdrive wanted to cry at his brother's pain. He cut himself off from bringing up the legalities after their carrier shot him a look forbidding it. There would be time for _that_ later, and with Jazz in the room. "We'll be here for you, for all of you."

"We tried to... when he got back this morning, but we couldn't... So we talked... Other than about the sparkling, it was just going in circles..." Prowl shook his head, pressing closer, every millimeter of his frame showing just how little time had passed since he was a mechling. "He said he would stay, but I still feel like I'm losing him," he sobbed.

"Show me," Zyphra said firmly but gently and opened a dataport. "I have a slightly broader perspective on things, including fights and carrying mechs."

Prowl immediately dropped all firewalls as Zyphra established the connection, showing his carrier the events of that morning. Included were his own emotional reactions, and the fact that his tactical computer wouldn't even accept the data on the situation, citing the high potential for a crash due to so many connections to his emotional protocols.

"Dear one, that wasn't even a squabble," Zyphra stroked Prowl's helm gently. "He's young, afraid and in shock. I'm very sure leaving you isn't anywhere close to occurring to him."

Prowl trembled, this time with relief. "And about the sparkling? He was so upset about losing them before, but for him to seem like this one doesn't matter either way... I was even looking since he has so many influences telling him not to care about them..."

Zyphra looked more closely at that exchange and vented. "He's trying to protect you from what I'm seeing," he nudged Prowl's awareness towards the subtle things he was too distressed to pick up on himself. "He's trying to protect himself from the pain of losing it too, by trying to convince you that what his culture says must happen is not big deal." He tugged on an older memory, one where Prowl had first discussed spark merging and sparklings. "See how faint the admission of grief is, how completely buried by protocols, culture and self-preservation it is?"

Prowl nodded, holding tight to his carrier. "That he would hide from me, knowing that I know it hurts him..." Prowl shivered, leaving the thought unfinished.

"Love and the desire to protect do not always create logical responses, Prowl," Zyphra tried to sooth him. "The more emotional the subject, the less logic gets to play and the more a mech will fall back on their oldest lessons, their oldest beliefs."

"Yes, Carrier," he intoned softly, accepting the words of wisdom. He vented deeply, attempting to pull himself under control.

"Prowl, you said you would accept his choice not to carry yet if he said so. Would you accept his statement to me? He is too afraid of hurting you more to tell you the truth, even to save himself."

"Of course," Prowl whispered.

"Then I will see to finding the truth, and judging its value against his health," Zyphra tipped his face up to rest their chevron centers together. "I will take responsibility for whether this new spark becomes my first grand-creation or not. All right?"

Prowl's optics shut off as he basked in his carrier's decisiveness. "Yes, Carrier," he replied, easily accepting his creator's judgment over his own, grateful that the older mech was willing to take this heavy burden from him.

"Then relax with your brother, try to get some energon and recharge if you can," Zyphra gently disconnected himself and eased Prowl into Flashdrive's arms. "I will speak with Jazz privately after his clade has moved into the embassy."

Prowl nodded, trusting his carrier to make the best decision for all involved, and curled into his brother's arms.

* * *

Jazz absolutely reveled in directing both his kin and the Praxian Embassy's servants in transporting and setting up new quarters for the breeder clade. He enjoyed the authority, yes. He would never deny he enjoyed being able to give orders. Yet what really made it feel _good_ was the ability to make order out of chaos and explain to others what he saw that they didn't. To use his knowledge and his Primus-given gifts to make things _happen_.

When Lord Zyphra had shown up a full orn early a fresh wave of panic crashed through Jazz, fearing he was losing his kin, his society, that much sooner. He relaxed, almost giddy, when the Praxian informed them that the plans had changed and they would be residing in the Praxian Embassy until the family home in Praxus was fully prepared for them.

The breeders had moved quickly to call in those who were with lovers to return to the clade quarters. Under Lord Zyphra's direction they'd gathered the things that were considered theirs; mostly gifts from free lovers, and mostly interfacing toys. Then they were off, under heavy guard, to the Praxian Embassy.

All of which led to this moment, when Lord Zyphra motioned Jazz to follow him into a small, private room.

Zyphra smiled at him and motioned for him to take a seat, sitting in the chair next to him. "You are looking much better than yesterday."

"Yes, Zyphra," he smiled at him. "It's good to be _doing_ something."

"I'm glad." He reached out and touched the back of Jazz's hand. "I heard your morning with Prowl didn't go as well."

Jazz dropped his gaze. "No," he whispered, deeply ashamed of the fact. "There are ... things ... I don't understand about him yet."

"It will happen," Zyphra crooned soothingly. "Talk to me about it."

"Prowl ... there's such emotional attachment to a ball of loose energy only a few joors old. He wants it to become a sparkling so badly," Jazz shook faintly, fear, regret and shame mingling into a potent unpleasantness in his field. "I don't understand."

Zyphra moved in closer, embracing Jazz much as he had Prowl earlier and trying to soothe the minibot with his field. "In his processor, it already is one," Zyphra murmured. "Do you mind taking this conversation to hardline?"

"No, Zyphra," he opened a dataport for the Praxian.

Zyphra quickly, but gently, established a connection. He was hit hard and fast by the _state_ of the mech, and then by how well Jazz was holding it in check. The intensity of spark energy with nowhere to go, nothing to support, was disorienting and distressing. How easily Jazz managed what would have Zyphra screaming and begging for mercy within joors made the older mech's spark ache in sympathy for what a breeder's existence must be like ... and a new understanding why they would wish to 'free' their kin in stasis.

~What is _your_ opinion on the new spark? Your true feelings, not what anyone expects you to feel,~ he asked Jazz, gently but firmly.

Jazz's processors stilled, emotional reluctance mingling with slave code before he responded to the order the only way he could.

~I grieve its loss, but I can't carry it for long,~ Jazz murmured, a deep, old wound of grief welling up for the emotional code to struggle against. But faced with following an order vs. soothing the slave, the order won out. ~I miss them all. I understand why I can't have them.~

Zyphra soothed him much as he would a sparkling, sending him a sense of safety, and that everything would be alright. ~Why do you continue to merge when you know you can't keep them?~

A youthful sense of 'want to' rippled up before Jazz's processors caught up with the question. ~I don't always have a choice. Everyone expects it. I _enjoy_ it. I ... it's what I was taught to do.~

~Enough that you are willing to lose the sparklings that result from it?~ Zyphra sent a sense of non-judgment, of wanting to understand his viewpoint.

Jazz's processors stilled even as his systems heated from having someone connected to him. ~I never _thought_ about it before.~ he eventually admitted. ~It's just how things are ... were.~

~Now you have a chance to, to figure out for yourself,~ Zyphra replied gently. ~Prowl and the rest of us cannot separate the two, especially with breeders like yourself, where the chance of kindling is virtually guaranteed.~

Grief welled up again, though milder. The grief of something enjoyable lost. The grief that this enjoyable thing could now serve only one function; to produce a sparkling for Prowl. All that mitigated, to an extent, by the thought of no longer losing potential sparklings.

~How many is he likely to want?~ Jazz asked, his processors still in turmoil even though the choice had been made.

~I do not know. It is something for you and he to decide.~ Zyphra ran a soothing hand over the silver helm. ~And if I know Prowl, he will want to try to find a way that would allow the two of you to merge without such a high risk of kindling, especially since you enjoy it so much.~

~That would be nice,~ Jazz murmured, leaning into the touch as he latched onto the hope with more desperation than he would ever admit. ~Why do you ask if I want the sparkling?~

~I was in a meeting with Keepsafe and Sideswipe when he joined us this morning. She wanted to convince him to have the sparkling aborted. I had a serious conversation with him after she and Sideswipe left.~ Zyphra continued to stroke his helm. ~He was worried about your response, and he cannot fully process the situation in his normal manner.~

~It's not a choice I ever expected to think about,~ Jazz admitted quietly. ~Any kindled before my spark matured would be terminated, after that, all would mature and I would likely help raise only one of them.~

~And here Prowl is, wanting you to have a choice. But know this, _neither_ of us want you to feel afraid of Prowl's response to your preferences. He will love you no matter what.~

Jazz's face turned down, not sure when he'd looked up, his processors crying out for understanding, for acceptance. ~I don't want to choose. I don't want this 'freedom' Prowl finds so important to force on me. I'm glad to have him, I want to keep him, I'm grateful I'll know my creations and I won't be bred to extinguishing, but he wants so much of me I don't know I can give him. I don't know how to be the mech he wants. I want to make him happy.~

Zyphra crooned softly, his arms around Jazz giving a slight squeeze. ~What makes him happy is seeing you happy. He does not want to make choices that would affect your happiness without knowing how you feel about the decisions.

~He has agreed to have me make the final decision regarding the sparkling, since you are not comfortable doing so and he is not capable of processing it with what is known right now. Is that acceptable for you?~

Jazz nodded against him, grateful beyond words to have this burden taken from him. Whatever Zyphra chose he could accept. That _Zyphra_ made the choice meant that Prowl wouldn't find fault in _Jazz_ for what happened.

Zyphra rested his helm against Jazz's. ~Do you have any concerns or questions you wish to ask of me?~

~I ... I don't want to lose the adults, but it's cruel,~ he murmured, a disjointed jumble of thought-emotions linking the words to the expected murder of those in stasis and execution of their killer.

~We also spoke to Keepsafe about that,~ Zyphra crooned soothingly. ~She has ideas that may help those in stasis, and we will be setting up protections for them while the rest of your kin stay here. We do not want to lose anyone either.~

~Good,~ Jazz murmured, his loyalties clearly with those fully functioning even as he grieved for his kin in stasis. ~I'm not ready to lead.~

~You won't have to,~ Zyphra reassured him, feeling the intense relief of the young mech. ~Is there anything else?~

~Do _you_ want anything?~ Jazz's processors turned, predictably, to sating his perpetually aroused frame.

~Not as such.~ Zyphra chuckled, then suggested, ~I am sure Prowl could benefit from the reassurance that you are not permanently upset with him.~

~Where is he?~ Jazz took the suggestion as permission to leave with whatever work was still undone.

"In his office, I believe," Zyphra replied as he pulled back, disengaging the hardline connection. He smiled as he watched Jazz take off in a flash of quicksilver and eager energy.


	15. Waking Free

Jazz began to boot, his quick-action processor clicking on first to assess the reports. Everything was going smoothly, but one expected set of protocols didn't load. He nudged that portion of the boot sequence to find them completely deleted. A moment of panic, then memory clicked in.

Those had been the control protocols. His new owner had them deleted as the first stage in freeing him.

He _still_ wasn't entirely sure what to think of that. Freedom had never been a goal of his. Some aspects were nice, to be sure, like keeping his sparklings and not being bred to extinguishing by a thousand vorns, but the rest ... that he wasn't so sure about. Prowl wanted it though, and that was enough for Jazz.

As he continued to boot up, he felt a hand holding his. When his optics booted up, he saw it was Prowl, and gave his hand a squeeze.

"Lord Prowl," Jazz said the moment his vocalizer was willing to finish booting. A few nanokliks later, when his sensors had worked out who everyone was, his tone dropped to a sultry purr. "Hey lover."

“Hello yourself," Prowl replied with a smile, bringing Jazz's hand up to give it a kiss. "I take it you feel well."

"A little disoriented, but it's all good. More free processor power to mess with," he grinned mischievously, then wider when he heard Sequence's low groan.

Prowl chuckled, smiling. "Then I will have to find more ways to keep you occupied."

Jazz's visor flashed and his engine revved. "Maybe you'll just have to schedule a little more time for me in the evenings."

"That does not sound like a hardship." Prowl leaned in and gave him a kiss that was eagerly returned and deepened. They were interrupted by a polite noise from Zyphra when Jazz's engine revved hard and the silver mech reached up to draw his lover down.

"My apologies, Carrier," Prowl pulled back, his systems revved up from the greeting he had received.

"You will have your time soon," Zyphra promised with a small smile for the lovers. "His kin should be allowed to greet him first."

"Yes, Carrier," he replied, though he wasn't at all regretful. He stepped back slightly to provide more room around Jazz, but didn't let go of his hand as the other former breeders gathered to greet him as they had his two elders when they had booted up from their edits. He was privy, this time, to the way the group used their fields to exchange a tremendous amount of information with out any means detectable by those even a couple paces away and without even touching.

His tactical computer immediately spat out all the uses for such a highly developed skill, but it really focused on _why_ they would develop the normally simple method of contact to such a level. Jazz's actions and reactions during the riot were brought up.

Were the breeders more than just social royalty to be pampered, but an actual _political_ force in the shadows, one to be reckoned with? What other reason could there be for such a skill?

Prowl continued to run the possibilities through his computer, flagging the idea to bring up to his creators as ways to better integrate them into their new clade without giving up everything they had known.

Once the former breeders were done greeting Jazz, Keepsake subtly drew the attention to herself. Her attention focused on Zyphra, Prowl and Jazz.

"I am sure you will want a second opinion," the physician began uneasily. "I found an instability in the new spark while I was doing a systems scan."

Prowl's optics dimmed and wings drooped, even has his grip on Jazz's hand tightened. "I trust your opinion, Medic Keepsafe," he whispered, grief, and a touch of relief, running through his field. He knew there would be questions from Jazz soon about the relief, but it seemed the minibot was willing to wait for private to go there.

"How serious an instability?" Zyphra asked, his gaze on his creation and Jazz full of sympathy.

"I would need to do more research," she prefaced it, clearly uncomfortable even bringing this up given her clearly stated opinion on what should be the fate of the tiny ball of energy. "My current assessment is that it is either destabilizing to be reabsorbed naturally, is it preparing to split into twins, or it is attempting to merge with Jazz to become his twin."

"I had only wanted to attempt to keep the sparkling so long as both it and Jazz were safe and there were no issues," Prowl said softly, holding Jazz's hand close to his chest for comfort. "None of the cases you predict match the last condition."

Jazz looked up. "But you wanted the sparkling so badly," he said, openly bewildered.

"Only so long as carrying wasn't risking _you_ ," Prowl replied, leaning in to rest his helm against Jazz's.

Jazz tipped his face to kiss his lover, and Prowl drew it out into a long, tender exchange.

"As Jazz knows, the least traumatic way to make it reabsorb is to merge with a mech who isn't its sire," Keepsafe spoke gently once they parted. "There are other options if you prefer not to share him."

"I have no issues sharing him," Prowl said, his free hand stroking Jazz's helm.

"Then I will leave it to you to work out the who, how and when," she subdued her visible relief. "I would like to examine Jazz two orns afterwards to ensure that everything has stabilized. The reason I have always done a full physical examination of each breeder every metacycle has far less to do with ensuring they are not carrying when they shouldn't as it does with their actual health."

Prowl nodded. "Very well." He helped Jazz sit up, holding his lover close.

"Why don't you return to your rooms now and spend some time together," Zyphra suggested. "You both have much to talk about."

"Thank you, Carrier," Prowl replied, then looked down and nuzzled him. "So long as you wish to as well, dear one."

"Yes," Jazz's engine rumbled hotly as he leaned against Prowl as they left. "I want to enjoy your spark a few more times while I can."

"I would like that," he whispered, leaning in to place a kiss on Jazz's helm as they walked to their suite in relative silence. As soon as the door to the entry room closed, Jazz's hands were stroking Prowl's wings and his field flared bright and hot in desire for his lover.

Prowl groaned at the touch on his wings, his own field flaring with arousal. He twisted around so that he could scoop up the minibot and caught his mouth in a fierce kiss that was returned with equal passion.

Jazz's hands found their way between Prowl's legs, but instead of going for his spike cover, he scraped his claws against the valve cover beyond it and the cover immediately retracted.

"Love you, need you," Prowl said hotly, his mouth moving to lick and nip at the sensor horn on his lover's helm as Jazz’s fingers buried themselves in the valve that was quickly growing very slick.

"Against the wall," Jazz growled, putting as much authority as he dared into his voice, his field, and the pressure of his hands to back Prowl up.

Prowl shuddered and arousal flared at the sound and he backed up to lean against the wall. "Beautiful, sexy..." His hands found seams and teased wires he had learned long ago were sensitive while he took the end of the sensor horn in his mouth, treating it as he would Jazz's spike.

Jazz moaned and shuddered in pleasure before lowering his helm to swirl his glossa in a slow circle over Prowl's spike housing on the panel covering it. It clicked open, the spike partially pressurizing into Jazz's mouth. Prowl whimpered, leaning over him, his hands moving to cup the silver helm as his spike was sucked on and lavished with attention by that skilled glossa.

At the same time Jazz's fingers worked Prowl's valve, sliding in and out, scissoring and curling to rub against the pliant, sensitive walls to encourage lubricant to seep out and flow.

Prowl was not hesitant to vocalize his pleasure, increasing in volume as he got closer and closer to overload. His wings began to tremble as the electricity in his frame built, and soon he climaxed with a cry of Jazz's name.

Jazz continued to suck and lick Prowl's spike as the Praxian cooled a bit. His fingers slid from Prowl's valve, only to be replaced by one of their toys. Those fingers were brought up to Prowl's lips as Jazz allowed the spike to slide from his mouth.

"You taste so good," Jazz purred with a final kiss to the tip of Prowl's spike.

"I think the same of you," Prowl gasped, optics locked on his lover's mouth even as Jazz pressed his slick fingers past Prowl's lip plates so he could taste himself.

"Mmm, berth, so I can ride your spike before your spark?" Jazz suggested seductively.

"That sounds wonderful," Prowl agreed as he finished licking his fingers clean. He stood, sweeping Jazz up in his arms, and carried the minibot into the other room and to the berth. He sat, then laid back with his sensor wings spread wide and Jazz sprawling on top of him.

"An inhibitor for these, or are you up for the challenge of outlasting me natural?" Jazz rumbled, excited by the sensations he was picking up from Prowl.

"Let's see if I can outlast you on my own," Prowl purred, optics sparkling with anticipation. His hands ran along Jazz's sides, dipping into seams and relishing the way his lover arched and moaned.

Jazz grinned down at him and shifted backwards, wiggling to line up with Prowl spike, then slid back and down on it with a heavy moan. "Ya feel _so_ good."

"Your valve is _perfect_." Prowl thrust up to seat himself fully. "Love being with you."

Jazz moaned shamelessly and focused on playing with the large area of red vent slats on Prowl's upper chest. "What about your brother's spike?" He shuddered, reveling in the memories of watching the two Praxians together, with or without him. "You're _so_ hot with him."

Prowl was ruthless in exploiting the more sensitive spots on Jazz's frame, their bodies moving in concert together. "He is very good," Prowl purred. "He was my first, taught me after my mechling upgrade. And _you_ are very hot between his twins."

"They're pretty hot to be between," Jazz shuddered, whining as his charge built sharply. "Hottest of all was watching Flashdrive take you so hard you rocked with every thrust while Sunstreaker took me from behind and Sideswipe sucked me off. Loved watching you. Loved the way you looked at me."

"You look amazing in pleasure," Prowl groaned. "Love watching, love listening."

"Love showing off," Jazz trembled as the charge overflowed all his systems in a cascading overload that left him crying out Prowl's designation in bliss.

Prowl groaned as Jazz's field bombarded him with his lover's pleasure, but it wasn't enough for him to overload again. Instead, his hardline ports spiraled open, inviting a hardline connection that was gleefully taken.

* * *

It was a quite a while later before they lay sprawled together, every overload possible wrung from their frames. Though their plating had closed protectively around their sparks once more, their chests were still pressed together, unwilling to break that last connection.

"I love you," Prowl murmured, the truth of the statement filling his optics and field.

"Always," Jazz murmured, pressing everything positive he felt for Prowl through his field. It might not be love as the Praxian viewed it, but it was as close to 'I would run away to be with you' as Jazz could comprehend existing for himself. "Will always want to be with you." He spread his hand over Prowl's chest as close to his spark chamber as he could without moving. "I look forward to carrying your ... our ... sparklings when I'm older."

"I can't imagine a life without you by my side," Prowl murmured, his hand coming up to cup Jazz's cheek. "I want to someorn share the joy of a sparkling developing next to your spark, of raising them with you. I wish to spend my recharge cycles with you in my arms, to build a life together where we are both happy." He leaned in, his gaze locked with Jazz's, and his lips just brushing the other's. "I would have you for my bondmate, if you are willing."

Jazz froze, too shocked to even respond to the kiss.

Bond?

Slaves didn't ... he wasn't a slave anymore. This mech wanted him badly enough to blackmail Lord Blastoff into selling the entire breeder clade to him.

Who was _he_ to deny that kind of desire? It wasn't as if it was an unpleasant idea in the least.

"You only have to teach me how to," Jazz murmured as he melted against his lover and closed the distance between them to complete the kiss. "I would be honored."

Every word of it, every intent, was the absolute truth too, Jazz realized with a hum of pleasure.

Prowl's lips on Jazz's were a tender, pure expression of the love/happiness/gratefulness that was causing his field to riot.

"I will," he whispered as he pulled away, leaning in again to nuzzle at Jazz's cheek. "My creators will want a ceremony to formally recognize us as such after we arrive in Praxus. The actual physical bond will have to wait until your spark is mature, however."

Jazz nodded his understanding and leaned in for another kiss, his systems still too worn out to get revved up. "So we can celebrate our full bonding and the kindling of our first creation in the same night."

He found he was rather excited by the prospect.

Jazz, former breeder slave, _bonded_ to a noble of Praxus.

He didn't know much about bonds, but he did know they _hurt_ when severed. If Prowl meant to physically bond, it also meant the mech was determined to keep the number of sparklings Jazz would carry down to a reasonable couple dozen over a standard lifetime. It was enough to make him shiver in a new kind of excitement.

A standard lifetime.

What a concept. He'd live ... he really couldn't wrap his processors around that span of time. It was huge. Almost unlimited.

It was too much ... too long ... and the happy code he still had in full clamped down on the line of thought before Jazz could begin to freak out about it. It was barely half a nanoklik and Jazz was back to the idea of celebrating _their_ first creation and bond.

"Yes," Prowl smiled, the excitement in Jazz's field infectious. "It will be very much a cause for celebration." He placed a teasingly affectionate kiss on the end of Jazz's nose plate.

"I wonder if we'll give the first grand-creation," Jazz hummed, a silly, happy grin on his faceplates.

"My oldest brother _is_ already bonded," Prowl pointed out, though he was still smiling. "They have not kindled yet, though. It may well come down to a race between us and Flashdrive with the twins."

Jazz could only giggle. "I don't think the twins are ready for sparklings yet."

"That wouldn't stop Flashdrive from keeping any accidentally kindled, and they are little better than us at keeping their hands to themselves." Prowl chuckled, amused at the thought of the twins attempting to care for a sparkling and being completely out of their element.

"I bet it would be gifted, between its creators," Jazz purred, more than content to snuggle against Prowl's chassis and talk of amusing things. "And an absolute terror ... assuming it's not twins. They're much more common when creators are."

"It would be quite a terror, and come by it just as honestly," Prowl replied. "Flashpoint, our youngest brother, is very much one himself. He will be a bad influence on any sparkling, and the young ones of your clade."

Jazz could only laugh hard. "Prowl, you have _no_ idea how bad our youngsters are when they aren't in 'behave for the master' mode. The entire palace indulges them shamelessly and they abuse it shamelessly."

Prowl's smile widened. "Life will not be dull for their caretakers, then. Nor the rest of us. Flashpoint already keeps the staff on alert."

"And now they have a sparkling, three on the way and four younglings to add to the chaos," Jazz snickered and stole a quick kiss. "Now that we're going to be official ... what would you like me to look like?"

Prowl kissed him back, then looked at him curiously at the last comment. "What do you mean?"

"I can take pretty much any frametype you'd like," he explained with a curious look. "Praxian," a shimmer passed over his frame and a Praxian minibot of black, white and gold with a deep purple visor was resting on top of him. "Iaconian," a black and gold, slender but tall minibot with a deep red visor was there after another shimmer passed over Jazz. "I can even do an Aerial model, though I'd need some upgrades to do more than a powered glide. Any color set you like. Just fix it in your processor and I can do it. It just won't have a different mass than I do."

Prowl stared in shock. He'd heard vaguely of this ability, but had never known of anyone with it. Had never guessed that he'd know anyone with it, or that he'd see it demonstrated. "Primus..." he whispered.

He managed to compose himself after a moment. "What form do you prefer?"

Jazz vented a long sight. "Prowl, please. I like them _all_. I don't even remember what my original was. Not really. I change for every master, and a lot just for fun. I want to look like someone everyone will be jealous of you having. I can't have a pedigree of value in your city, but I can _look_ like a mate everyone will think you're lucky to have."

Prowl hummed thoughtfully at that. "You already do, and any mech who spent time talking with you would be amazed. However, the silver form is what I associate as _you_." He gave Jazz a kiss. "If you wish to experiment, though... Perhaps a cross between Praxian and Protihexian, with a complimenting color scheme?" He smiled at his lover. "You will give Carrier quite a shock when he finds out you can do this."

"Why?" Jazz, still in black and gold, cocked his head before squirming to the edge of the berth to retrieve a cube of energon. "It's just a skill. We all know it well."

"You... _all_?" Prowl stared at him, stunned.

"It's a _very_ effective way to use all the excess spark energy we have," Jazz shrugged as he drank the cube quickly, most of his processor power on designing a Praxian/Protihexian blend that would be aesthetically stunning next to his lover. "And we're never short on energon either."

"We had no idea..." Prowl murmured. "It is supposed to be a very rare ability."

"It's just a skill," Jazz insisted before dissipating the cube. A shimmer passed over him once more and a brilliant black and white mostly-Praxian mech with highlights of red, blue and silver sat before Prowl. "Do you like?" Jazz asked, his mirrored visor reflecting Prowl's colors.

"A skill that no one in Praxus is known to have," Prowl replied as Jazz changed. "You are amazing," he said as he reached out to lightly trace Jazz's body. "I am a biased source, however," he smiled, adoration shimmering in his optics.

"Really?" Jazz looked at him with open surprise as he crawled back over to snuggle close. "I didn't think it was that uncommon. It'll take me a few orns to rewire all the sensors and fine energon lines so this frame _works_ like yours, but it's functional enough now for show."

"It is." Prowl held him close, one hand running down his back, taking in the decidedly _Praxian_ design of it thanks to the three-panel sensor wings Jazz now sported along with the absolutely familiar tingle of Jazz EM field and systems. "How young do you start learning?"

"Mmm, second stage sparkling, give or take. The same time we scan our first alt mode," Jazz purred at the contact and snuggled closer, his wings bent at an angle that would soon be very uncomfortable. "It's just an expansion of that skill. A bit of override code on the safeties and you can scan anything for its looks. With a detailed understanding of a frame's interior design you can add that to the transformation sequence. When you have enough understanding, you can design a form from scratch without scanning anything. It can't increase your mass, though with subspacing it can decrease it. I can make myself _look_ nearly as big as you, but there would be a huge amount of air in the design and very thin armor because my mass would still be this."

"Does it require one to have such a discrepancy in frame and spark sizes?" Prowl's hands idly explored his frame, learning the curves and planes.

"Can't imagine it would," he stuck that in a primary processor for a while. "No, it's not any different from scanning a new alt. It's the same tech, same ability we all have. You know ... well, maybe you don't ... but you aren't supposed to rotate alt modes quickly. It'll strain your spark. But with so much excess spark energy, I can move through them easily, a dozen or more times in an orn isn't a strain as long as I'm not carrying. You probably shouldn't scan a new alt more than once an orn. I think that's what stated for normal mechs."

"Does Lord Blastoff know?" Prowl asked, endless possibilities for it running through his processor.

"Mmm, no clue," Jazz purred. "It's not a secret, but he doesn't really pay attention to us either."

"All the better that he doesn't know what he's lost," Prowl purred, hugging him close. "My creators will be amazed to have so many with the skill in our clade."

Jazz hummed acceptance of the statement, though he didn't understand why a parlor trick was so valued. "Since you didn't know before ... you know this is a fun way to spice up the berth games. You can have anything you want and it'll still be me."

"That it is _you_ will make it what I want," Prowl smiled. "However, I can think of uses for berth games. And I am sure Carrier will come up with uses outside of the berth."

That made Jazz purr even deeper. "I like to be of use," he nuzzled his lover. "We all want to be useful, and not just for the new sparks we produce. I'll be anything I need to be. That is my nature, my function." He shifted and tipped his helm up for a kiss. "My comfort."

Prowl kissed him softly. "You will always be of use to me. And we will ensure that everyone has plenty of opportunity to be kept busy." Prowl kissed him again.

"It is more than we dare ask for, all we ever hoped for," Jazz whispered as he melded into the kiss. "I want to make you happy, for it makes me happy."

"And your happiness makes me happy," Prowl replied, his hands becoming bolder, more purposeful. "We will just have to keep each other happy." He kissed Jazz deeply, their talk having allowed his body to recover enough for another round of interfacing.


	16. Choices

Sideswipe and Flashdrive were half-sitting, half-sprawled on the berth in their suite. Flashdrive took a sip from his cube of midgrade and leaned his helm against Sideswipe's shoulder with a contented sigh. Sideswipe's hand come up and stroked the Praxian's chest affectionately.

"Still haven't told your family?" the red mech asked quietly.

"Not yet," Flashdrive replied. "What do you think of the situation with Jazz and Prowl? Do you think Jazz will agree to a bond? I know Carrier will push for one, after all that has happened."

"Refusing won't even occur to him," Sideswipe said with absolute certainty. "Even freed of coding he's still spent his entire functioning being obedient to those in charge. Not just his owners, but his elders in his clade too. Jazz'll see it as a way to solidify his position of favor and help secure the future of his kin." He kissed Flashdrive firmly. "I think he cares a great deal for Prowl though. It's just the emotional reasons will be pretty far down on his priorities list. Mech's been raised to be the clade leader, the leader of all the slaves and servants in the palace and royal court. Duty is _way_ high in his thought processes, just like with Counterpoint."

"Prowl certainly understands duty," Flashdrive replied. "I think he expected to end up with an arranged bondmate, rather than one he picked for love. So long as Jazz is happy and willing, and cares for him, Prowl will be content."

"I don't think there's anything to worry about there," Sideswipe smiled and kissed him again. His powerful engine rumbled in annoyance at the chime requesting admittance.

"I'll get it," Flashdrive said, giving Sideswipe a kiss before rising and answering the door. His wings flared briefly in surprise when he saw who was on the other side. "Jazz? All alone? Come in, come in." He ushered Jazz in, allowing the door to close behind them.

"I hope I'm not coming at a poor time," the silver minibot said first. "I have something of a favor to ask of you, and Sideswipe," he added after spotting the red mech on the berth.

"Not at all. What is the favor?" Flashdrive tilted his head as he led Jazz to a seat near the berth. He had a guess what the favor was, but didn't want to assume.

"I'd like to merge with you at some point while we wear each other out," Jazz said with only a touch of unease at the social minefield this new situation put him in.

"For Keepsafe's orders?" Flashdrive asked gently. At Jazz's nod, he sighed. "It can't be me, I'm sorry."

Jazz nodded, then cocked his head with a look at Sideswipe.

"Yeah, I can," the red mech nodded and extended a hand for Jazz to join him. "Just not him."

"Would you mind if I joined in the interfacing, even if I can't merge?" Flashdrive asked, sitting with Jazz between him and Sideswipe.

"I'd enjoy that very much," Jazz purred eagerly and reached to draw the Praxian close. "It works best when it's part of a _really_ good night. One moment, one overload out of many good ones that blurs it all."

"Then we will make you feel very good," Flashdrive replied, leaning in and kissing Jazz as Sideswipe's hands began to roam over silver plating.

"Mmm, I like that plan," Jazz pressed into the touches, his systems eagerly revving up at the promise of a very good fragging. "Should I be congratulating the three of you?"

Flashdrive paused at the last comment, but then pressed close. "Yes," he replied honestly.

"Then congratulations," Jazz reached out to stroke Flashdrive's chest, his mouth moving down to the Praxian's neck while Sideswipe pressed against Jazz's back, his hands working the minibot's sides and moving down. "When are you going to tell your kin?"

"Thank you," Flashdrive moaned, tilting his head to give Jazz room, one hand straying to tease Sideswipe's side while the other stroked Jazz's hip. "I'm waiting until the three metacycle mark, which is coming up soon."

"When you're sure it's taken. Less likelihood of false hopes," Jazz smiled as he reached one hand back to catch one of Sideswipe's stubby sensor horns and rub it gently. "It'll be a bit of welcome news I'm sure."

"Welcome, but bittersweet for Prowl," Flashdrive acknowledged before mouthing one of Jazz's sensor horns.

Sideswipe groaned, his hands tightening on Jazz before one reached down to stroke his spike housing, which snapped open immediately. The spike quickly extended into the waiting fingers.

"Yes," Jazz murmured and turned his helm to kiss Sideswipe. "It'll be good practice for him. He'll get to help raise a sparkling before having one of his own."

"Mmmhmmm," Flashdrive agreed, grinding against Jazz as Sideswipe moaned into the kiss.

* * *

Prowl had joined his carrier when Jazz had gone to see Flashdrive and Sideswipe, unable to be present for what he _knew_ would happen. Instead, he distracted himself with planning and plotting with Zyphra.

"We will need to hire more caretakers, since there will soon be three sparklings in addition to the sparklings and younglings purchased. And according to Jazz, the younglings are as trouble-making as Flashpoint." He smiled in fondness.

"I'm not surprised, given the intelligence and creativity I've seen in their kin," Zyphra smiled as they sat in the small alcove in the crystal garden they had first relaxed in. "Jazz is definitely an exceptional mech in many ways. We will prosper quickly with their help."

"Mmm, they are talented in more ways than you have seen," Prowl replied with a secretive smile. "Jazz has told me that they truly wish to be useful in ways that do not include producing sparklings."

"That is good, given that is what we want of them," Zyphra looked at his creation. "I take it Jazz has a special skill out of the berth?"

"Not just Jazz. The whole clade, to one extent or another. However, it would be best to wait until he can show you," Prowl's continued to smile, knowing such an answer would frustrate his creator.

"I see," Zyphra gave Prowl a hard look, knowing what his creation was up to. Yet given the situation, he couldn't help but indulge him. "Just how _useful_ is this ability going to be?"

"I'm sure we can find ways to make it _very_ useful. No one will suspect our clade has it," Prowl purred, quite pleased.

"Really now," Zyphra found himself amused by this game of information keep-away. It had been ages since Prowl had indulged in it with him. "Is it one that is in the records or something no one is expected to have?"

"Not even Lord Blastoff knows, though they didn't deliberately keep it from him." Prowl's wings twitched, enjoying the exchange.

"Given how little he knows of them, that isn't difficult," he chuckled. "Is this a skill or _ability_?"

"It is commonly thought to be an ability, but Jazz insists that it is actually a skill." Prowl's wings waved in lazy affection for the minibot.

"What you would use it for the most?" Zyphra asked, thoroughly interested in the game now.

"In general, it would be useful for spies, bodyguards who wished to remain subtle, entertainers, courtesans..." Prowl relaxed in his seat. He automatically opened the comm ping from Jazz.

::I know something you don't know,:: the minibot's sing-song voice was giddy, high on pleasure and getting to tease his lover.

::Regarding whom?:: Prowl replied, twitching his wings to let his carrier known he had received a comm.

::Your brother,:: Jazz held back a moan from the comm, only barely. ::He let some good news slip.::

::Oh? What news is that?:: Prowl asked curiously.

::I know why he won't merge with you,:: Jazz teased, his mood high.

Prowl's processors raced, comparing possibilities to what would be considered good news, and he stiffened in surprise at the most likely conclusion. ::He's carrying?::

::Yep,:: Jazz cheered him. ::Just under three metacycles now. By his twins.::

::And you thought we'd easily beat him,:: Prowl teased, his spark filled with a bittersweet pleasure for this brother. It took Prowl losing his first sparkling to find out his brother was carrying _his_ first.

"Prowl?" Zyphra prodded gently.

"Jazz just passed along some news that he found out from Flashdrive," Prowl replied, shaking himself back into the present. "It seems that you will have a grand-creation in less than eight metacycles." He smiled, his mixed feelings coming through the expression.

Zyphra's optics brightened, a smile spreading across his face as his wings spread and flared in surprise, then delight. "Why was he holding the information back?"

"Perhaps he was waiting for the best moment? We did not officially know who his lovers _were_ before your visit here. He could have also been waiting to make sure there were no complications with it before telling us." Prowl shrugged. They were all valid reasons to withhold the news, especially given how old the new spark was.

::Why don't you join us, lover,:: Jazz purred. ::We're just having fun now.::

::Let me make my excuses to Carrier, love,:: Prowl replied. "Jazz has requested my presence," he said, switching his attention to his creator. "Will you be needing someone?"

"No, go enjoy your mate," Zyphra's optics glittered with amusement. "I quite enjoy the garden."

Prowl smiled at that. "Thank you, Carrier." He stood up and hurried off, eager to join the other three.

* * *

Jazz shivered, moaning shamelessly as Prowl cleaned and detailed Jazz's new sensor wings for the first time since all the internal wiring had gotten sorted out. Now they were as sensitive as Prowl's, only Jazz didn't have all the vorns of experience in ignoring the pleasurable sensations and far less inclination to do so.

Prowl smirked, quite pleased with Jazz's response. His hands were sure as he made sure to clean every joint and edge, taking far more time than necessary. "You are lovely," he purred in the minibot's audio, drawing another low moan and shudder of pleasure. "So responsive, with such a wonderful voice." He continued to stroke the panels under the guise of cleaning them.

"So good to me," Jazz trembled, flaring his wings and separating the three fingers under the solvent spray to give Prowl that much more to touch. His natural predisposition to overload hard and fast worked against his limited efforts to hold back and enjoy this new pleasure.

"And I will continue being good to you," Prowl murmured, nuzzling a helm horn. "And you will have many chances to feel this," he added, indicating what he was still doing to Jazz's wings.

"Good," Jazz trembled, moaning as the energy began to crackle across his frame. "No wonder you love yours played with."

"It's even better when both partners are sharing a wing overload," Prowl teased as his hands became more insistent, knowing the best ways to intensify an overload.

Jazz whined and pressing into the knowing touches, reveling in the skills of a lover who knew so much being focused on him. Reveling in what he was learning. Reveling in his _pleasure_.

"So close," Jazz gasped, trembling as he leaned forward to brace himself against the wall.

"Go over, beloved. Let me hear your voice," Prowl crooned, pressing close to let their fields mesh. He reveled the raw, shameless cries of his lover, the lash of electricity between their frames, the unique way Jazz lost himself in the moment even as his field reached out to Prowl's to share the glorious moment.

He easily caught the smaller mech when Jazz sagged in the aftermath. Prowl nuzzled his helm and held him close, humming a soothing note as Jazz recovered. He smiled and returned the sought after kiss when Jazz lifted his face to his lover's.

"Wow," Jazz murmured, his systems, as always recovering quickly.

Prowl chuckled affectionately. "You have an idea now what you were doing during those dinners."

"How did you ever stop yourself?" he stared up, his visor bright as he grasped the state he must have brought Prowl to so regularly.

"Very good control," Prowl replied with a smile. "As well as practice. When I was a mechling, Flashdrive would feel them up when Carrier was near to try to get me to do something that would catch his attention. I quickly learned how to not give in, and eventually he kept it to the berth."

Prowl's expression changed as he leaned in to rest his cheek on Jazz's helm. "Why were you so surprised when I chose you, when Keepsafe pronounced the condition of the sparkling?" he asked quietly.

"You wanted the sparkling so much," Jazz murmured, leaning into the touch. "It wasn't a problem that was likely to extinguish me."

"It was to me," Prowl replied, hugging him close. "I wanted to give the sparkling a chance. When dealing with probabilities... even if _most_ have life-threatening problems, there are a few that do not. I had hoped the sparkling would be one of those few. Also, I could not use my tactical computer to help me make the decision. It was refusing to accept the data, on the basis that there were too many contradicting emotional protocols attached that would cause a processor crash if it ran the scenarios. That Keepsafe could tell the sparkling was not one of the few without issues was the piece of information that allowed me to make a decision without the tactical computer.

"I love both of you, but between the two... You are my priority." He nuzzled Jazz's helm.

Jazz nodded, processing that with some difficulty. He kept expecting protocols he no longer had to quash the debate in his processors, to force him to accept Prowl's choice at face value. Eventually his own adaptive nature put a stop to it, cataloging it as something past and no longer of concern.

"I love you, Jazz." Prowl murmured, moving to kiss him softly.

Jazz tipped his helm into the kiss, relaxed in his lover's embrace. "I love you, Prowl." He responded, slowly, as sure as he could be of his words.

Prowl's wings trembled in pure emotional pleasure as love-happiness flooded his field. He savored the feeling of Jazz in his arms for several long moments, before reluctantly disengaging. "We will be late for lunch if we do not finish."

"Mmm, yes," Jazz purred, emotional pleasure rushing through him at Prowl's response. "I suppose we should be social."

* * *

"How many serious buyers attended the gala, do you think?" Flashdrive asked his golden lover as they waited for Prowl and Jazz to show. He had finally returned earlier that orn, having been delayed longer at the new gallery's opening than Sideswipe.

Zyphra looked on, interested in Sunstreaker's answer.

"Nine made major purchases, another score looked like they wanted a piece enough they might come back for it, and two commissions," Sunstreaker sounded quite pleased, and there was no doubt his brother was ecstatic at the news, even if he already knew the numbers. "It was a good show, even if it would have gone better if my brother had stuck around for the entire thing."

"I am glad to hear it went so well," Zyphra said. "And I'm sorry that Sideswipe's absence may have delayed some sales. His early return was quite helpful to us here."

"There will be more sales in due time. Your work is hard to resist," Flashdrive purred, stroking Sunstreaker's arm affectionately.

"There always are," the golden mech huffed, but offered a small smile to his lover.

Further conversation was momentarily halted when the door opened and Prowl walked in with a Praxian minibot in a near mirror finish and complementary colors.

Sunstreaker's smile turned into a smirk, even as Sideswipe looked hard at the new mech, then glanced at his brother, who nodded, causing the red mech to snicker.

Zyphra frowned in confusion when he caught sight of them. "Prowl, who is this? Where is Jazz?" Flashdrive looked between the two white-and-black mechs, just as confused as his carrier.

Prowl didn't answer verbally, but instead simply grinned at his kin, wings waving lazily in amusement.

::Should we tell them?:: Sideswipe commed Prowl with a snicker.

::It is more fun to let Carrier figure it out for himself,:: Prowl replied, mischief in his voice.

"Jazz is right there, Lord Zyphra," Sequence motioned to the smaller Praxian.

::Or perhaps he will tell,:: Prowl added with a note of regret.

"But... how..." Zyphra's processor whirled, before memory added to the present conundrum and his optics widened in surprise. "This is the skill you mentioned, isn't it?"

"What is? What's going on?" Flashdrive asked, still confused.

"Jazz merely made himself fit in as Prowl's permanent mate," Sequence sounded confused at the Praxian’s confusion. "Matching color and form to look best with Prowl."

"Sorcelling..." Zyphra whispered in amazement. Then he turned to Sequence to ask, "And you all can do this?"

Flashdrive's wings raised in shock at Zyphra's pronouncement. "Amazing..."

"Yes," Sequence answered honestly. "The youngest are not very skilled yet and Jazz is better than most, but we teach it to all clade members."

"Why wasn't it mentioned before?" Zyphra asked, trembling as he processed the possibilities it offered.

"We didn't realize it was that unusual," Jazz spoke up as he sat next to Prowl, across from Flashdrive and the twins. "Please understand, _all_ breeders have known how to sorcel for nearly as long as there have been breeders. We worked it out just to have a way to burn off spark energy."

"Having so many who know it will be a very large asset to the clade," Zyphra said, still amazed. Prowl's wings were lazily moving in smug pleasure, even as he sent approval to Jazz through his field.

"What is it normally used for?" Flashdrive asked, just as pleased as the rest of his kin at the revelation.

"For fun, for effect in a performance, to look better with or to our master, but _we_ use it mostly to burn off excess spark energy when young," Sequence nodded towards Jazz. "Once we mature fully, it's rare to employ. It is not safe to do so when carrying. The drain on spare spark energy that the new spark needs may be too much to sustain both during the moment of the shift."

Zyphra nodded in understanding. "Though with fewer sparklings, you will be able to use it for your enjoyment again," he said, smiling gently at the older former-breeders.

"What, exactly, changes?" Flashdrive asked curiously. "Is it just the plating, or do sensors and the like change as well?"

"It depends on how much time and effort is put into it," Jazz smiled easily, his wing-language remarkably similar to Prowl's, though his chassis and the rest was definitely Jazz. "The initial shift is only plating. You only _look_ like what you're mimicking. Since this will be my new primary form, I put the extra orn and energy into reconfiguring the sensors and internals, as well as downloading Prowl's protocols for what I don't naturally have, to make it as much like a Praxian frame as yours. I know Keepsafe can find the deep internals that don't change, and we don't bother hacking our ID pings. A level three or higher request will still indicate I'm Polyhexian."

"Actually ... Lord Zyphra, should we take on Praxian frames and IDs, since we will now be part of your clade, and thus Praxian?" Sequence asked.

"Your IDs should be left alone," Zyphra began, deliberately avoiding that they _shouldn't_ be able to change them in the first place. "However... it might be a good idea to at least adopt some Praxian traits. Wings, in particular."

"Of course," Sequence inclined his head in acceptance. "We will design new frames in the next few orns for your approval. I will have to wait until Cantabile has separated in two metacycles. Kesh may not yet have the skills, though he will within a few vorns." Zyphra nodded in acceptance.

"How could you tell it was Jazz?" Prowl asked Sideswipe curiously.

"I'm an artist," Sunstreaker answered first. "Noticing things is what I do or I couldn't create the art I do."

Sideswipe nodded. "He's got your wings, but the rest is all Jazz. He's got a natural flow to his movement and frame language that couldn't belong to anyone else."

"And who ever heard of a Praxian with a visor?" Sunstreaker added.

"The difference in his movements should even out over time," Prowl said. "When he asked, I suggested a mixture of Praxian and Protihexian. Obviously, there is far more Praxian in the design." Prowl smiled affectionately, giving Jazz's hand a squeeze.

"I just can't give up the visor or horns," Jazz chuckled, leaning into the touch and accepting a bite-sized confection from Prowl's fingers, his sensor-wings flicking in pleasure. "It's about all I keep between designs."

"Then it's good that I like you with them, hmm?" Prowl teased, offering another confection when Jazz swallowed the first.

Flashdrive cycled his vocalizer for attention, his lovers pressed in on him.

"I realize it's not quite the news of the orn, but I do wish to formally announce that I am carrying twins by Sideswipe and Sunstreaker," Flashdrive smiled at his carrier. "I am three metacycles along, and they are stable and strong."

"That is good news," Zyphra smiled back. "So it is twins?"

Prowl's wings waved in pleasure for his brother, though his smile was touched with sadness. Jazz leaned in closer, pressing his field against his lover's and offering silent support.

"Yes, the odds held true," Flashdrive nodded. "I do intend to register their sires."

Zyphra's wings twitched in acceptance, and his gaze turned on the twins. "Are the two of you planning on being there for the sparklings?"

"Yes," Sideswipe said firmly, literally daring anyone to challenge him. "We might be young and not ready to bond, but they're _ours_."

"There's twin-stuff only we can teach them," Sunstreaker added, his armor puffed out in a mild threat display.

"We would not try to keep them away from you," Zyphra soothed, though he was obviously pleased with their responses. "I am merely clarifying the point."

The twins settled at a touch from Flashdrive, who was smiling. "Some registered sires consider gifts and credits sufficient involvement," he soothed the pair with an explanation. "I know it's not your way, but it's common among the nobility."

Sideswipe nodded and Sunstreaker made a disgusted sound, but they seemed to accept it for what it was.

"It's not our way," Sideswipe confirmed.

"I am pleased to hear that," Zyphra relaxed.

"We wouldn't have pressed to be registered if we didn't want to raise them," Sideswipe added as he settled down completely, leaning against Flashdrive. "Even if we don't end up staying with your creation, these sparklings carry our spark code. They're clade and we want them that way."

"You'll fit right in with these mechs," Jazz grinned at the twins. "They're big on clade."

"We would not dream of denying the two of you, or the sparklings, that connection. The clade is our strength, our comfort," Zyphra assured them, quite pleased with their reactions and reasons.

Prowl hummed in agreement, his arm wrapping around Jazz's shoulders and holding his lover close as Jazz purred and silently assured him he intended to stay and wanted Prowl always with him.

"Is everyone involved in raising sparklings?" Sequence suddenly asked. "Among our clade, it was common to have the carrier extinguish within a few vorns of separation. Thus it became clade culture that everyone takes care of those younger than they are, no matter the age."

"Creators have primary responsibility for sparklings and make the important decisions regarding them. The rest of the clade does help and support, and young ones can look to any of the older members of the clade for advice and reassurance. In addition, we also have caretaker servants whom are hired to be tutors and watch over the sparklings and younglings while the rest of us are busy with our duties during the course of the orn," Zyphra explained, then paused and pressed forward with the question. "Why was it so common to lose the carrier so early?"

"Tradition," Sequence explained. "By custom, the first or second and one of the last new sparks a breeder carries will be a new breeder. Since we carry more than one a vorn, the second breeder one of us carries will barely meet their carrier, if at all."

Zyphra nodded, trying to reign in the distress he felt at that idea. "Are creator-creation bonds acknowledged with the few you keep, then?"

"Not really," Sequence shook his head. "It's damaging to the clade to favor half the sparklings over the others that way."

"It ... hurts," Jazz added. "Being left out. To have some with a special bond and others without. So we don't."

::At least not where anyone else can see it,:: Sequence added privately. ::It is difficult not to make an acknowledgment on occasion.::

"We will take that into account as we decide clade organization. It seems likely that we will consider you and Dart as the creators of the younger members currently online," Zyphra told Sequence. ::I understand. The pull is very strong,:: he replied gently in private.

The lead breeder inclined his head. "It would not be inaccurate. We function as their creators as the only mature adults of the clade. Jazz is next in line, then Echo. Our functioning cycle has been such that every mech is raised assuming they will lead for a time."

"Hopefully we'll have the two of you with us for a respectable time yet," Zyphra acknowledged, tilting his head.


	17. Noble Bonding

Prowl was still somewhat in a daze as the vows were said and his bonding to Jazz made into law by the High Priest of Praxus. Forty-one vorns he had been desperately in love with the beautiful spark beside him, no matter what form he wore. In forty vorns as the Ambassador of Praxus to Polyhex they had done much, and even become attached enough to some of the staff there to coax them to come back to Praxus.

Jazz in particular had all but adopted Bluestreak, even though the young gardener was more than six times his age.

It was adorable. It made Prowl's spark ache for the time when he could watch Jazz with their own sparklings. Still, the clade might not be ready for more sparklings just yet. Not with five rambunctious younglings and seven sparklings already. In a hundred vorns, when it was safe for Jazz, would be a good time for more.

The newly bonded couple followed the guests to the reception site, an exclusive site within the Helix Gardens that his creators had managed to reserve. Prowl held Jazz's hand in his own the entire way, unwilling to let go of him, and blissfully happy that this orn had finally come. The EM field closely entwined with his own glowed with intense happiness, awe and a calmness that didn't come often to the hyper mech.

The upgrades they'd made to Jazz's frame, from extra armor and protoform mass to advanced sensors, a small tactical computer and EM disruptor, all drained enough of Jazz's excess spark energy that he could _almost_ pass for a normal Praxian.

Almost.

Prowl wouldn't have it any other way.

Even though the mech next to him, a gorgeous black and white Praxian designed to complement him perfectly, was very different from the small silver mech he'd first held, Prowl had no doubt that it was Jazz and that Jazz was just as happy this orn as he was.

Prowl paused, pulling Jazz to a stop, just before the entered the reception area. He pulled his mate ( _his mate!_ ) in his arms and gave him a soft kiss. "I love you," he said, his smile far larger than normal.

"Always," Jazz murmured, a shiver passing through him at Prowl's pleasure. "I will always love you, Prowl."

"Forever," Prowl promised with another kiss. "I am yours now, as you are mine." He held Jazz close, nuzzling his face. Both their wings were flared and open in display of their joyful pleasure.

A light resetting of a vocalizer drew them from their kiss.

"The reception?" Zyphra smiled at the pair. "We will leave you alone soon."

"Yes, Carrier," Prowl replied, for once the mild scolding having little effect. With another smile at Jazz, they turned and entered the reception with all due ceremony.

There were _still_ murmurs of how perfect they looked together. Not just because of being a love-match, but also for Jazz's current appearance. It was a closely guarded secret that Sunstreaker had actually done the bulk of the design, unasked for but most welcome. Jazz enjoyed preening for an audience _far_ too much to object.

"Welcome, Prowl and Jazz, to the bonded members of the House of Gilded Sun," Lord Dawnstar smiled warmly at his third creation. "May your love-bond be strong and honorable."

"Thank you, Lord Dawnstar," Prowl replied formally, smiling in return. "We wish to bring honor to the House and clade."

With that they walked into the room and the whirlwind of congratulations, polite comments and admiring of their matching looks and perfectly coordinated movement.

"You look very good," Sequence smiled warmly as he greeted the pair. His black and silver wings spread in greeting set off his sky blue and black frame with dark blue and purple highlights. "It is good to have your love-match official."

"Thank you, Sequence," Prowl replied, wings fanning slowly in pleasure. "It is good to truly be able to call him my mate."

Jazz simply beamed and leaned close to his mate. He chuckled softly at the barely contained excitement of the younglings, waiting to greet them with a Leaf that would have been upgraded to an immature breeder adult, but instead still had a couple centuries as a mechling. His clade had changed so much. The younglings were all as large as he'd been in his first adult upgrades. They'd be convoy class mechs when they were mature. Even Leaf and Vale would be larger than average.

With a tiny nudge he focused Prowl on the mob of youth that took the signal for what it was and surrounded them with hugs and delighted chatter.

Prowl chuckled as he and Jazz returned the embraces, replying where he could to the five younglings, though they dominated the conversation with very few chances for replies. Affectionate tolerance filled his field as they were pulled away by adults to allow others a chance to greet the couple.

"I always knew you were destined for a special bonded," a warm, welcoming voice drew Prowl's attention. He bowed deeply to the Lord of Praxus, as did Jazz. "You have found a _very_ special mech indeed from all I have heard."

"Thank you, Lord Whitesong," Prowl replied, equally affectionate. "There are few who can compare to him, and there is no word in our language that can truly express the depths of my feelings for him."

Whitesong smiled and Jazz purred, snuggling close against Prowl's side.

"Your bond will be a great asset to Praxus," Whitesong said with the certainty of passing a message he believed in fully. "And I am personally pleased that you plan to stay in the city for a time. It is good to have you back."

"While I cannot regret my time in Protihex, it is good to be home in the city of my creation, with my clade and my mate," Prowl's arm around Jazz tightened affectionately.

Whitesong smiled and inclined his head before drifting into the crowd to leave the couple at the mercy of extended kin and political contacts.

Still, they made it through and soon had their guests settled.

Prowl glanced over at Jazz and tilted his helm towards the cleared dance area when the band started getting ready. Tradition stated that they had the right to dance alone to the first song of the night.

With a purring engine and bright smile, Jazz squeezed his hand lightly and took the lead for the first time in public, at least until they made it to the dance floor.

"Love you," Jazz whispered and gently touched his forehelm to Prowl's before they swept into the graceful and, for Praxus, very intimate, dance before all.

"Love you always," Prowl replied, echoing Jazz's words from earlier. They moved together in beautiful unity to the traditional love song, one of Prowl's favorites. It told a story that the couple played out in their movements. A shy noble who fell in love with the Prime, his dreams of being with the great mech, his efforts to attract his attention. Unknown to him, the Prime had been watching him, waiting for him. Other nobles, jealous and wanting the Prime's attentions for themselves, tried to keep them apart, but ultimately failed. The Prime and his shy lover bonded and led Cybertron into a great and prosperous time.

They shared a long, tender but ultimately chaste kiss as the song ended, one that continued into the first steps of the second song, one chosen by Jazz for a slightly faster beat.

Other couples joined them, including a beaming Echo tucked in Lord Whitesong's arms.

Prowl chuckled as they switched leads again, this time Jazz leading him through a dance that he had learned just for his lover. He chuckled again as he spotted Echo's partner and subtly motioned Jazz to look as well.

"They look good," Jazz purred softly before stealing a quick kiss. "He looks quite happy."

"Lord Whitesong will make him very happy indeed," Prowl replied knowingly, stealing a quick kiss of his own as Jazz purred in contentment.

"How long before we can make good an escape?" Jazz whispered, his hands becoming just a bit bolder.

"We'll have to socialize a little more first," Prowl murmured in reply, nuzzling his cheek. "They won't expect us to stay too long, though."

"Good," Jazz murmured and pressed a little closer as the next song began. His wings fluttered in pleasure and pressed forward, touching Prowl's in an intimate embrace.

Prowl held him close as they danced, indulging in the forms of intimacies allowed in public as they danced and socialized. He was keenly aware of his mate's growing need. Though the seemingly countless upgrades of the past forty vorns had done wonders for Jazz's ability to go without overloading, it had done little to ease the mech's _desires_ , particularly when it came to Prowl.

They held out for nearly a joor after the dancing had begun, but when Jazz's engine began to make a needy whine, Prowl was quick to make his excuses and escape with his mate, his _legal_ bonded, to the suite in his family home that would be theirs until they outgrew it.

Prowl kissed Jazz's palm as they entered their suite, his optics dancing with amusement. "This better, love?" he purred.

"Better," Jazz grinned up at him, his hands moving for Prowl's wings as their chassis pressed together. "But I want it all. Everything you can give me now."

Prowl moaned as Jazz touched his wings. "Everything is yours. All that I am."

Sure, skilled hands continued to play Prowl's wings as Jazz drew him towards the berthroom. "Then make love to me tonight, take all that I am, all that I can offer. It is all yours, given freely and gladly."

"I will, love," Prowl replied, stopping so that he could cup Jazz's cheeks in his palms and kiss him tenderly. "I promise to treasure you for eternity."

Jazz shivered, a small moan escaping him as he kissed the palm cupping his face. "As I will treasure you, my Prowl."

**Author's Note:**

> klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 1.2 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles
> 
> ::text:: comm chatter; ~text~ hardline/spark-to-spark chatter
> 
> There are mentions and/or instances of several subjects that may be disturbing to some readers that are not in the standard warnings. These include slavery, abortion, culturally-condoned incest, and mentions of teenage-equivalents having sex. Those whom are mechlings (said teenage-equivalents) are considered part of the majority in their culture when it comes to sex, though none are seen participating with adults in the course of the fic.
> 
> Disclaimer: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (anhrefn-hyfryd.livejournal.com/22919.html), We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.


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